


Audere Est Facere

by Natelley



Series: Audere Est Facere [1]
Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure, Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum) Backstory, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Archaeology, Canon Compliant, Cults, Egyptology, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gods, Historical References, Humor, Immortality, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Magic, Pre-Canon, pharaohs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 51
Words: 292,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natelley/pseuds/Natelley
Summary: Fifty-four years ago, the mummified body of King Ahkmenrah was transferred to the American Museum of Natural History, where the mysterious and priceless Golden Tablet brought life to the museum - literally.Fifty-eight years ago, King Ahkmenrah and his parents were brought to the School of History and Archaeology at the University of Cambridge, where a professor and former archaeologist discovered the secret of the Tablet. The first living human in four thousand years.A shame that Rowena Clarke wasn't at all fully human - if you considered a hundred-fifty-four-year-old woman with an issue with death as one. A woman who has died too many times per se.Now over two-hundred-years-old, she alongside a nightguard and a four-thousand-year-old mummy in 2006: they navigate the 21st century and what seemed to be the longest night of their lives. It would seem there is more to the Tablet that it had. Especially when a secret group wanted the golden coin Rowena's kept on her neck since her death._In short: What happened before Ahk went to New York and what happened in Cambridge?
Relationships: Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)/Original Female Character(s), Jedediah/Octavius (Night at the Museum), Kahmunrah (Night at the Museum)/Original Female Character(s), Larry Daley & Original Female Character(s), Larry Daley/Rebecca Hutman, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Theodore Roosevelt/Sacajawea (Night at the Museum)
Series: Audere Est Facere [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787626
Comments: 19
Kudos: 64





	1. Part One: The Woman Who Died

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my characters and the plot I devised in Parts 3 and 4. 
> 
> I also wrote this during the year in which my country has been in Lockdown for practically most of the year so bear with the amount of re-editing I've done in the first few chapters.
> 
> Warnings of some chapters that include violence or potential death will be notified at the beginning of chapters. Translations and dictionary will also we notified at the notes.
> 
> I'm trying my hardest to make this seem professional (and I'm sucking hard at it tbh lol). But things don't seem to line up, I'm potentially thinking getting someone to edit this whilst I'm writing as I am a student and I should really be doing uni work instead of writing about my character digging up hot mummies.
> 
> Okay enough of me, hope you guys enjoy this and have a nice day. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin not on land but in the ocean.
> 
> A baby. A storm. And a miracle.
> 
> And a man that has a heart bigger than anything. A man who would love a child as his own.
> 
> But also the beginning of Rowena Clarke's journey of what is the impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How I procrastinate is posting something out of the blue and hopefully knowing that it's all correct. Hello, and welcome to Audere est Facere which means To dare is to do. This was inspired mostly from the Age of Adeline, mixed with historical references and Night at the Museum fun. At first, this was going to be simply moving through the canon plot, but I decided to add pockets of my character's - Rowena's - life before everything kind of changed for her.
> 
> I know some parts are very inaccurate history-wise but for the sake of fitting Rowena into events will make things easier. There's also a bit of mystery and magic as to how she's lived. I will try and post as soon as possible, but I am terrible with a schedule when it comes to stories. 
> 
> I am currently looking for some beta readers. Just to check up on grammar and making sure things make sense plot-wise.

**P A R T O N E**

**~oOo~**

**ren**

[Anc. Egyptian for 'name'; The Egyptians believed that a name will live for as long as that name was spoken, which explains the efforts made for them to be protected.]

**~oOo~**

**Rowena I  
  
**

_**1776 - Atlantic Ocean  
  
** _

She was discovered in the ocean.  
  


Swept along the Atlantic currents, the waves crashed over the _Virgin Mary_ 's deck, as the ship soared higher than the waters. The waves tumbled, sending a salty spray across each crew member on the top deck. The sound of wood slapping water, and the winds howling through the darkest of nights despite the flashes of thunder and lightning over the murky grey clouds. Echoes of cries joined the ensemble of noises. Wailing of men, women and children that were below the crew's feet – under a single plank of wood to protect themselves from the outer forces.  
  


The storm grew worse. And unbeknownst to them: a little baby squirmed in their mother's arms. She was unsure whether her child was discomforted by the noises or the cold itself.  
  


A large crackle boomed from above their heads. The people who were crammed together screamed and fidgeted, hearing the metal clang of chains and the feeling of skin rubbing against each other mixed with the grime and dirt over the floor.  
  


Many were huddled together in groups. Mothers with their children. Husbands with their wives. Even those that were alone banded together – praying to whoever listened to them up towards the sky or even on board of the ship. People prayed for safety, a safe passage through mother nature's territories. Other's prayed for mercy; a quicker death would stop them from feeling the pain of drowning.  
  


However, the ship began to tilt vastly. Bodies were tossed straight to the side in a pile, causing more water to fill on the lower deck. The baby still slept.  
  


Suddenly, the ship the overturned.  
  


Water began to fill to the brim. At first, they felt it on their toes, and they curled them as the feeling of cold wet water began to rise. The walls began to crack and break, spurting out jets of water, sinking the ship and the people on it under the surface. There were bubbles of pleas and shrieks, the splashing of wailing arms continued until there was nothing but a span of the blue ocean.  
  


Like a sequence, each person cascaded downwards, dragging each one to the bottom of the sea.  
  


The mother was last in the chain, trying her best to find something. Anything. Anything to keep her child alive.  
  


And her gods gave her one last salvation: a floating crate. She wrestled with the water, dragging herself across with her legs and arms until she could place her child into the wooden box. Her child had not moved, only stared at her with those large brown eyes.  
  


The mother didn’t know if it was tears or seawater damping her cheeks, but she never wiped them away. Kissing her forehead gently, she gave her child one last plea to live and let go of the crate. She didn’t resist as she was pulled down into the water with the rest.  
  


The sound dwindled. Nothing was left known of the _Virgin Mary_ that night - all apart from one crate floating through the ocean. And the wailings of a baby echoing into the world…  
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1776 - Plymouth  
  
** _

A figure ventured down to the docks on the early hours of the morning.   
  


He rarely saw the place, which he was brought up in, to be ever so quiet and peaceful. The only thing he heard was the squawking of seagulls and the waves gently brushing against the shore. The ships rocked back and forth, a gentle swing that he followed as he walked alongside the edges and towards the shipping warehouse.  
  


He heard about several issues on some shipments from the northern parts of Africa. Several ships have sailed from _La Calle_ all the way to the south-west coast of England, readying supplies, buying orders from inland and then embarking once more for the colonies in the Americas. It was only a few weeks ago in which he saw the _Virgin Mary_ leave the port of Plymouth, only hearing from another businessman that it had sunk due to the extreme weather conditions just after they departed.  
  


Harold Clarke stepped into his office and greeted his steward and assistant. A servant asked him for anything to drink but he clearly denied, hoping to stay sober for the day. He knew his wife would prefer for him to stay awake and have some chance to spend some time with her.  
  


When he went over with his steward over the issue, Harold thanked him and returned to his desk. Stacks of papers of orders and taxes were skilfully placed on one side whilst he wrote in the other. His father was asking for him to establish connections with the colonies and expand the trade. And as the future Duke of Cornwall, it was a duty he must uphold to gain the respect that has been in their family for centuries.  
  


In all honesty, Harold did not believe in it. He found the trading to be wrong in his moral compass. He had met many from the outer colonies and found them to be interesting and completely the same as every Englishman - nothing of the ordinary. They had traditions and customs and bore respect over their agendas.  
  


However, he knew not to disagree with his father's opinions.  
  


He was about to get up - until the door flew open. A member of one of his crew arrived into his office, tights weighed down and soaked with water, and panting breath. He could only imagine what the public saw, assuming as if he swam all the way to his office.  
  


Harold raised his eyebrows and demanded what had happened.  
  


"I don't believe telling you may believe your eyes, sir." The man gulped.  
  


And so, Harold gestured him to lead the way.  
  


The harbourside was bustling with workers, servants and slaves. The stench hit Harold on his face as he marched over to his ships. Many of the crewmen ignored him or perhaps stayed clear of him due to his status. The man finally ventured down onto the rocky shoreline, which confused Harold.  
  


Once the man gestured down the steps, he complied and followed. They took the steps down to the low tidal shore, noticing another man standing by. In his hands, he carried a large crate, battered with seaweed sticking out of the edge.  
  


Harold walked up to the man alongside the other and spoke loudly, "What is the meaning of this?"  
  


The man, who assumed have found the crate, swallowed to empty his throat and looked at him. His eyes then darted to the man stood next to Harold.  
  


His eyes narrowed to a stern expression as Harold urged him to speak up.  
  


"Well...Sir.” He began, “I was planning to get the ships ready to embark for today, just making sure we’ve got the supplies and all ‘hat y’know…”  
  


Harold made another gesture.  
  


Then the man nudged his chin at the crate in his hands. "But then I heard someone crying down 'ere. I saw this crate washed up ‘ere by the shore. I swear I thought t’was ‘earing things. But I came down and decided to check.”  
  


Taking a step forward, Harold became curious and inspected the crate.  
  


Inside the crate was something no one would ever expect. Inside was a child. A baby.  
  


His heart skipped a beat.  
  


Harold darted his face to them. "How long has the crate been here?”  
  


"Dunno, sir." The man who led him here spoke and pointed, "John 'ere has been out for hours."  
  


Harold paused. How could a child live through a storm and be swept back up to England? The babe must have been born out in the sea, perhaps on its way to the colonies. Only his god mayhap gifted him this child.  
  


 _'And maybe a sign for our future child._ ' He thought.  
  


It has been years since Harold Clarke and his wife have been desperate for a child. But countless times of trying and many miscarriages, it had left them barren for a chance of an heir and their own one to love. Perhaps God was giving him a gift. But how did he deserve something so precious as much as life?  
  


Harold wondered, ' _Maybe God is challenging us_.'  
  


After a minute of thought, Harold told the men that he will have the child brought back to his office. The men looked at each other in shock but reluctantly passed the child, not uttering a sound. Gazing down, the child was fast asleep, but still breathing. She shivered when the wind blew, and his instincts made him unravel his coat. Wrapping the child with his clothing, he sent the men away and began walking back to his offices.  
  


Throughout the walk, he could not help but look every glance back at the child in his arms. Graceful and angelic in appearance. He felt his heart twang for a bit.  
  


A tuff of dark black hair perched on her head, with a round face and almond-shaped eyes. Her face scrunched, making him twitch his lips in amusement. She must have smelled the scent around them as they made their way back.  
  


"I'd like to call you Rowena if that is alright." He whispered to her, certain of the name he chose for her. "Rowena Elizabeth Clarke."  
  


Harold wasn’t sure why the name popped into his head, though the name fitted the small bundle of life in his arms.  
  


The child opened her eyes and stared back. Dark brown irises opposing his blue ones. Two new people stared to each other, something in which felt so precious to Harold than anything he ever had. There was something significant that made his heart lurch and want to encase his heart over the child.  
  


A familial bond. He could only hope that his wife may love this child as much as their own.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1777 - London  
  
** _

Harold returned to London a couple of months later from his work back to his current home. A month before, he had written to his wife about the child, who had spoken of nothing but anticipation. If only his father would love his grandchild to see pass through her own status and appearance.  
  


That was the only thing he was afraid of.  
  


When Eleanor saw the child wrapped in soft blankets and, wearing a pink dressing gown, she hesitated – almost looking at a piece of china than looking at a child.  
  


Harold waited for her to respond.  
  


"But she's...she's not our blood,” She whispered to him.  
  


He didn't respond. He only brushed away a dark strand of hair from Rowena’s forehead.  
  


“Harold!”  
  


He turned to her silently.  
  


"Her colour could affect your family!" Eleanor hissed, almost a look of plea in her eyes.  
  


Harold had many months to think, and those months with a midwife and a wet nurse allowed him to see the characters Rowena had.  
  


She was bold. Yes. At such a young age she didn't hesitate to begin moving and recognizing faces and colours. Her intelligence could easily be portrayed by how she could understand the things around her, being comforted by his presence and always crying when a stranger held her in their arms.  
  


But at that time: he knew what it was like to be a true father. His heart could not weigh the pain of leaving her sometimes for work, and often those times back to his cottage – he would spend days asking how Rowena was fairing from the carers that took her under their wing. During the night after writing letters and contracts, he would settle into Rowena's nursery, and move the little dolls in her cradle - playing out a little scene to her. She would babble and laugh at the expense, and he would never refrain from grinning and smiling back in fondness.  
  


Quickly, she was growing onto him. Every single day. And those months concluded one thing for Harold.  
  


And that was that Rowena was his child.  
  


He fell in love with the baby the moment they met, and it only got more and more the moment he realised how at ease he was with her. She was the bundle of light in his stressful days, as well as the stressful bundle sometimes. Harold cared more for her than anything he had met in his entire life.  
  


"I don't care." Harold took a breath. "I love her as much as if she was ours."  
  


Slowly, he watched his wife pick, Rowena, up, who squirmed slightly. But once Eleanor began soothing his adopted child, he relaxed. Eleanor was gentle. The love of the mother began to appear in her expression and how her body relaxed and moulded into Rowena’s tiny frame.  
  


Gazing at him, Eleanor quietly said, "God has given us a gift from the sea."  
  


He saw her open her mouth but paused.  
  


She stared at him with concern. "She cannot bear our name, Harold." Eleanor murmured. “She is not out blood.”  
  


"Rowena will inherit us." He spoke. "I will make sure of it."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1777 - London  
  
** _

The conversation between father and son heated up when the mention of Rowena came. Only at seven months, the child had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She began crawling the moment she was relieved from her cot. He would watch her from the table, holding the palm of his wife's hand with care.  
  


When he heard of what Harold had done, the Duke of Cornwall was furious. He had immediately told his son to remove the child and disown her immediately.  
  


But then a miracle happened.  
  


For once, a nobleman stood his ground.  
  


"No." Harold simply answered.  
  


The duke paused and narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"  
  


"I will not allow you to disown Rowena unless you disown me," Harold stated boldly. "My child has done nothing wrong-"  
  


"She is a stain to our name!"  
  


"All because you see her face and not her mind and heart!" Harold shouted. "Can you not see through that? They are the same! She is just a babe." Tears sprung into his eyes. He let them fall down his face, showing the truth of his actions were definite.  
  


The Duke turned his face away and stared out into the garden.  
  


Harold stepped forward to him and pleaded, " _Please_ father.” He spoke, “As a father, you know _God_ has given us something to treasure after years."  
  


His heart was pounding against his chest.  
  


Sighing, his father walked up to him narrowed his eyes to him.  
  


The duke sternly spoke, "I will give no money to pay for the girl's expenses or her tutoring. She will grow where no eyes will find her apart from your household until she is of age.” He told him. “If you believe she will inherit our name: she must play the part in this world. She will learn our ways and learn to manage our cause once she knows her place."  
  


Harold nodded, standing confidently. "I will teach her everything. She will earn and deserve _her_ name."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1777-1793 - Plymouth  
  
** _

Harold left London, alongside his wife, his household and Rowena. They left for Plymouth, deciding to raise his daughter near his work and begin changing the ways of his father's business.  
  


The first thing had been trying to file a change in the law of the trade. His work with a young lawyer in London was rather useful, as well as knowing a member of the House of Lords, who had a daughter that was in a similar situation as his Rowena. Then came his company that lost so much money - but that had not been the most important thing.  
  


Harold began looking for new routes in the wider world, finding new business in helping people on expeditions. Travellers seeking passage to the Mediterranean coast to venture out to the unknown ancient world.  
  


The years began to past quite quickly; Eleanor came to love Rowena as a daughter but was still hesitant to reveal her to her family and the rest of the world. He would find his wife going to tea parties and events with her ladies, leaving Rowena reading or studying in her suite with tutors he hired.  
  


He also changed as well. His household was fair, and the world did not know of it. He began buying people and freeing them as soon as they did so. But he was sensible to allow them to be sheltered by his house and name, paying the people to tend to his daughter's needs and his home.  
  


Rowena grew accustomed to the different faces of her household. Though what came to a comfort became a worry to him as she would not know the world outside the bubble of haven he gave her. Harold knew Rowena was smart to know the difference between her world and the real one.  
  


That did not stop her from doing very heroic deeds.  
  


The times when she would question his household on the mistreatment within his staff, not even taking consolidation to him. Harold was worried for her safety, more than Rowena's own mother.  
  


But she was also careful with many things. Her toys, her books and the animals she encountered. There wasn't a time when he did not see her without a book or a piece of cloth as she embroidered in the summer seasons. She tended with the dogs in the estate with ease and care. She began to enjoy drawing despite seeing her always frustrated at every sketch she did. In this case, Harold agreed with her that she was not good at art. She was good at the piano, excelling in playing the instrument as well as being graceful in the ballroom.  
  


However, when Rowena grew, time passed. Moments of playing with his daughter and watching her learn have passed. Harold knew that the time of her hand-in-marriage would be coming soon. Eleanor had been too cautious in mentioning Rowena to their peers and it had taken him more time to find her suitors.  
  


"Father, why am I to marry a man I do not know?"  
  


His little girl, no longer little: and now at the age of seventeen, asked this one day.  
  


They were having afternoon tea, sitting up on the hill which showed the coast and the town below them. It was Rowena’s favourite place, considering the number of times he found her either reading, playing or sleeping under the tree. It was why he decided to spend at least once a week having tea there. With his wife and child, and sometimes just him and Rowena.  
  


Harold said, "You are of age. It is our duty to make a mark in our world and marry a man you will grow to love."  
  


"Yes," Eleanor agreed. "Just like your father and I; I had been betrothed to him at your age."  
  


Rowena paused to think and did not say a word afterwards. There was guilt in his heart. He had shielded his daughter for so long that he forgot how the world would be harsh for her.  
  


His father had passed away a couple of years ago, leaving his title to Harold and a position to free Rowena and slowly change the laws. Laws began changing. A certain Earl and Judge had a grandniece who was of Rowena's descent stimulated this change. News and tales about the heiress from a royal navy guard.  
  


"You will marry the earl's son, Rowena," Harold explained. "One thing I assure you, I will make sure he is fine and courteous."  
  


Rowena simply nodded and returned to her book. From her simple response, Harold was worried she did not understand what she was agreeing to.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1793 - Naples  
  
** _

At seventeen, Rowena Elizabeth Clarke was married. He was the son of an earl - Nathaniel was his name. And he believed in nonsense.  
  


Rowena preferred philosophy and the enlightenment of elements alongside her hobbies of embroidery and music.  
  


On and on, he chatted about Greek and Roman Mythology and history. Rowena had reason though. She thought that they only gave moral and parables for society to learn and shape with. They weren't real and there weren't magical objects. Magic was not real to Rowena.  
  


However, her opinion could not prevent her from sailing to Italy the following year.  
  


Nathaniel wanted to take her to see what his team had found. It had been an ancient city buried under the ground of volcanic ash. She was more interested in Vesuvius rather than the monuments and buildings they unravelled.  
  


She also not interested in her husband in general. He was boastful and arrogant, proud to inherit her father's title and name once she bore a child and didn't like the look of her despite making mixed opinions. He only wanted her as a prize, and that made her uncomfortable to think about.  
  


Rowena did not think of herself as a prize. She was a person. Not a thing to be paraded about.  
  


Days turned into months. She lived in tents, with the servants her husband bought. One of them was skilled enough to help with her hair, using a special technique to keep it tidy.  
  


The day when he allowed her to venture to Naples to shop, Rowena was relieved.  
  


Italian culture was vastly different from England. Many still shunned her by her face but it wasn't as bad as it was in London. Once she arrived at the local market, Rowena was awed at the trinkets they sold. They had sold spices and foods from the silk road. Rare gems and gold jewellery that caught her eyes but not her hands. Rowena wanted to buy something special. Something for her father and mother back home.  
  


A shop vendor did catch her eyes. They were selling scrolls and books and wooden statues.  
  


But nothing stood out more than a singular coin on the table. It was about an inch in diameter, with odd carving and an eye in the middle.  
  


Rowena couldn’t help but be entranced by its object, but her fingers never left it as she studied it.  
  


The stall vendor spoke in Italian. " **That had come from the distant land of Egypt, madame** ** _._** "  
  


Rowena looked closely and found nothing special about it other than its uniqueness. However, it reminded her of the medallions her father liked to display in his office. Perhaps something from Egypt may interest him.  
  


"Thank you," She replied in the same tongue and passed him her coins.  
  


She kept the coin in her small purse, returning to the campsite. Unknown to her, the shop vendor watched the young woman disappear into the bustling sea of people. His face almost lighting up in a mix of relief and hope.  
  
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1794 - Pompeii  
  
** _

She woke up by the screams.  
  


When Rowena unravelled her bed, she found her protector lying asleep. She shook to wake them up but they didn’t budge until she placed her hand over their heart – and she felt nothing. Her heart grew cold and she widened her eyes. Suddenly, there were wailing and screams, chanting outside of the tent. She grabbed her coat and slipped onto her shoes – taking the most important belongings.  
  


Her purse and the coin she bought inside.  
  


When she left her tent, she only found the place in flames. There and then - Rowena ran for her life.  
  


Many of the men in the site were running everywhere, chased by men in dark black cloaks and what seemed to be flaming swords. She could not believe such a thing. When one of them stopped and spotted her in disarray, Rowena immediately ran once more.  
  


She ran through the ruined streets of the buried town, getting further from the flames and down to the unknown alleyways.  
  


Her head spun, dizzy from the constant gazing back. When Rowena encountered a crossroad, she took a breath and felt a force pulling her to the right. A quiet sound echoed through alongside the flames and the cries.  
  


As she continued to follow the voice – she found herself at a temple.  
  


The Temple of Isis.  
  


One figure continued to follow her as she hid inside.  
  


The temple was small but big enough for her to hide in a little alcove beneath the unharmed statue of the Egyptian goddess. Rowena clutched the coin, the one she bought and prayed for once in belief. She held her breath.  
  


"She's gone." The figure in black spoke.  
  


Another figure responded. "Burn the place up. She'll be in ashes and we'll be able to find the token."  
  


Rowena's eyes widened and she shivered. They were burning her alive, to get what?  
  


' _Please. Please let me live!_ ' She cried internally.  
  


No one responded to her.  
  


The heat began to rise, she could sense the smoke in her nostrils. When the air became too think, she wanted to move. Rowena tried to escape, but her dress got caught in a crack within the stone. She tried to cut it off, but to no prevail.  
  


Suddenly, there was an unearthly shudder.  
  


When Rowena looked up, she spotted the cracks of the stone beginning to form.  
  


And suddenly the ceiling collapsed.  
  


Rowena shut her eyes and awaited death.  
  


' _ **Not today, Special one. Not today...'  
  
  
**_

**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**1794 - Naples  
  
** _

A breath escaped her lips.  
  


As she opened her eyes, everything was pitch black. For a second, she took a breath and thought. She was awake, perhaps it was a dream. Though, why was it so dark and the air was too thin.  
  


Feeling her fingers and hands move, she pulled herself up – only to hit something hard above her. It felt like wood.  
  


And then the revelation struck her.  
  


Panic began to rise, and she began to push and scream.  
  


"Help!" Rowena cried. "Someone help me!"  
  


After minutes of trying to call for someone, she gave up and wiped the tears from her cheeks.  
  


She was buried. But how could she be alive?  
  


The air began to thin, and soon her vision began to be delirious. For a final time, Rowena pushed and slammed all her strength. Soon the lid broke from the hinges. Dirt fell onto her, and she dug upwards.  
  


Once she saw some source of light, Rowena scrambled for air and lugged herself up from the whole. Coughing and inhaling the air, she sobbed in relief. She was alive. But how?  
  


What did the voice even mean?  
  


Rowena stood up and searched for her surroundings. It was a cemetery of sorts. Plain and filled with Acacia trees. The warm night allowed her bloodied and dirty nightgown seems fine. When she found her hand still clutching her purse, she walked around – only to find her name engraved onto the tombstone in quick writing.  
  


> **Rowena Elizabeth Browning nee Clarke  
>   
> **
> 
> **1776 - 1794  
>   
> **
> 
> **May God let her rest peacefully.  
>   
> **

She felt her legs wobble, and she felt herself feel the gravel on the palms of her hands. Her mouth wavered, clattering her teeth - fear enveloping her.  
  


She had died. And everyone knew she was dead.  
  


Her hand retracted away from the stone material, afraid that it wasn't real at all. Clambering up, she dusted her skirt maniacally.  
  


Rowena looked to herself and discovered the ruins of Pompeii, eerily quiet. Turning her back against the decimated town, she curled her fists - sensing the token in her palm - and began her walk to the nearest civilisation.  
  


That was when her journey to finding her condition began. Her first stop was to go back to England and claim her rightful name from her father.  
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**2005 – New York City  
  
** _

A woman stared out into the streets from her seat, allowing the bright colours of lights and tall structures overlooked the grey skies. There were vendors and shops with names she had most memorized and names she did not know. People were filling in and out of them, with bags of the familiar colour and as large as sacks.  
  


She spotted the large tall skyscraper. With ornate Art Deco windows and metallic silhouettes. The Empire state building stood within the many buildings of New York, outshone by the greater skyscrapers with flashy lights and blue-tinted panels. There was only one time in which she saw as its greatest masterpiece. The first-ever building to stand at such height. Though now, things were different.  
  


Buildings have grown taller, and brighter.  
  


The world has changed, and she could never go back.  
  


The car left the high streets of Manhattan and began to dart its way through the outskirts of the main city. Brownstone houses began to filter through the windows on the passenger seat, and she familiarized with the landscape.  
  


Finally, the car halted by the pavement. She thanked her chauffer and began to leave the car. The boot opened once her driver began removing her bag and coat.  
  


Rowena turned around and stared at the house in front of her. It hadn't changed since she last saw it in photographs. There was a new bed of evergreen bushes in the front, with hanging pots by the black door. Grabbing her handbag, she took a deep breath – seeing a smoke leave her lips due to the cold. She walked up to the steps and knocked.  
  


It took a few seconds until she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Allowing herself to compose, she plastered a smile to greet one of her friend's relatives. It had been years since her dear friend had passed but kept one thing for her as a promise.  
  


Rowena unravelled the old brown paper in her hand, which showed the date, address and details of his will.  
  


> ' _I leave nothing but protection and welcome arms to Emilia Darcy and Joanna Bates (nee Darcy)’s families_.'  
>   
> 
> 
> _Signed, Howard Carter.  
>   
> _

Hopefully, his great-granddaughter could see pass through the lie Rowena had kept for almost two hundred years. She needed a place to stay. A place she could live peacefully and as normally as she could.  
  


Suddenly, the door opened – and she was greeted by a woman.  
  


The woman could not be older than her in appearance. She wore a cardigan and jeans, her arms wrapped around herself once she saw Rowena.  
  


"Hi," she spoke in an American accent. "You must be the person my dad talked about?"  
  


Rowena nodded and smiled, "Yes, that would be me."  
  


"Come in." She gestured her into her home, thanking her chauffeur as he placed her belonging on the top of the steps. "I'm Leslie Carter."  
  


She answered. "I'm Rowen. Rowen Bates." She smiled kindly. “A pleasure to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit [09/2020]: Currently editing parts 1 and part 2 during my last week before I leave for uni. Because there's a lot of mistakes in this first draft so I'm just tidying it all up so it all kind of looks professional and the plotlines fits nicely.


	2. The Big Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie Carter and Rowena Clarke (now known as Rowen Bates) meet. She decides to invite Rowen to her university party.
> 
> As for Rowena, a mixture of nostalgia and memories swarm her as she gets used to her new home in the Big Apple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, I'm glad that you're enjoying this. So for this chapter, it's a continuum from the last part of the previous chapter. Hopefully, you'll kind of get the notion that I'll be jumping to and fro from different timelines and maybe probably forget certain little details.
> 
> Please let me know if this is the case as I know I edit them enough for grammar and spelling, but sometimes I miss little things. :)

** Leslie I  
  
**

_**2005 – New York City  
  
** _

When her parents said her new roommate was coming today: they meant New Year's Eve. That was today.  
  


The second year of university arrived a few months ago for Leslie Carter. She was so caught up on schoolwork and shifts at the hospital (alongside dress shopping) that she had forgotten all about her new roommate. The brownstone hadn't had a deep clean since she first arrived at her old family home - which was in the middle of a refurbishment.  
  


Therefore, she was sent into a whirlpool of panic and began tidying the whole place, making sure there was enough room in the empty bedroom her roommate would be sleeping.  
  


The middle floor hadn't been emptied, leaving old 1920s and 60s furniture and boxes filled with vintage clothes. Leslie hoped that her roommate wouldn't mind the mess. And hearing that she was, in fact: a historian and a woman that dressed in all different eras; Leslie believed _she_ would appreciate the haul.  
  


The woman that was coming to stay for several months was around her age. She was the daughter of one of the most prestigious families across the UK. Something along the lines about being related to the Duchess of Cornwall was mentioned whenever her grandfather spoke about it. He knew nothing else apart from this, knowing that her great grandfather knew more about the Bates and Darcys.  
  


But to Leslie's quick research and foreknowledge, she knew the Darcy family had a reputation for history and archaeology, despite her career being as far from her family roots. She was impressed by how they came so far from nothing. They were rich but didn't flaunt it as much as the Carters - specifically herself. Leslie liked things all new and shiny and admired the new technologies coming out every year.  
  


With the hoover nozzle on one hand and pair of headphones on her head, Leslie danced around the living room, removing dust and dirt from the carpet. Her cat, Leo, sat idly on the sofa, cleaning himself quietly. At least having a cat didn't need any level of guilt with her mess.  
  


Once Leslie agreed to herself that she was done, she turned off the hoover with a deep sigh – hearing the gentle purrs to her side.  
  


She smiled and said, "Well at least you're enjoying your day, boy." Unplugging the socket, she began putting away the cleaning essentials. " _God_. What was Dad thinking of telling me this soon?" Leslie rubbed her forehead softly.  
  


Leo meowed.  
  


She tugged her hair tightly, red locks tied back in a ponytail before entering the main hallway. There was a small cabinet in which held her keys and a little plant on the table. She looked at herself in the mirror on the wall and tried to form some recognising smile.  
  


Then, the doorbell rang.  
  


Leslie took a sigh and turned to her right, walking up to the large door. When she opened the door – she wasn't expecting a petite woman with a brown London style coat and a beanie.  
  


The first thing she said was her greeting.  
  


Leslie's lips formed a smile as she said, "Hi… You must be the person my grandfather and dad talked about?"  
  


Gracefully, the woman welcomed her back with smiling eyes. "Yes, that would be me."  
  


Her accent was prominent, heavily influenced by a British accent. But there was some oddity – maybe another language?  
  


Panicking for a second, she quickly stepped the side and gestured for her to enter. "Come in." Leslie paused, noticing another figure behind the woman. He wore a black suit, carrying possibly her bags.  
  


' _A chauffeur then_.' Leslie restricted the urge to raise eyebrows.  
  


The woman thanked the chauffeur before Leslie could greet herself. "I'm Leslie Carter."  
  


"I'm Rowen." The woman, now Rowen, shook her hand. "Rowen Bates. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  


“Do come in. It’s pretty darn cold out here.”  
  


Rowen's chauffeur soon left once Leslie invited her in.  
  


When the sound of engines faded, and Leslie closed the door, she found Rowen already placing her coat on the empty rack. Awkwardly, she passed through and asked if she wanted to put her bags upstairs already. Rowen agreed and together they walked up the stairs, with Leslie carrying one of the bags whilst Rowen eyed the old paintings and photographs on the walls.  
  


"This hasn't been renovated since the 1980s." Leslie wasn't sure if Rowen stated or questioned her.  
  


Though, Leslie still replied. "Yeah. Almost twenty years" She paused. "Of course, not until I came up to live here. They've added electricity, new heating and water and WiFi. But everything else: all original. Even the paintings are original. One of a kind.”  
  


"I would assume so. Your family is famous." Rowen awed.  
  


Leslie turned before she opened the bedroom door with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? The last time a Carter discovered anything was when Grandpa Ed took on an apprentice - and that was my father."  
  


"But they're still here," Rowen smiled, an odd tint in her expression. She quickly shook her head. "Nevermind, I shouldn't be dawdling over something such as that. Carry on."  
  


Leslie focused back onto the task and introduced Rowen to her suite.  
  


It was cleaned out, with miscellaneous props and objects lying about to make it seem lively. There was a double bed in the far end, a couple of metres from the front window. Several wardrobes and a dresser, and a couple of new things she had bought. That had been plants, lights, canvases and the odd candle. Room decorating was another hobby Leslie liked and preferred everything to be modern. A mixture of creams, greys and naked woods.  
  


She placed the luggage by the bed and showed her the bathroom and walk-in closet. "It's pretty much like the rest of the other rooms. Mines at the top."  
  


"It's very....modern." Rowen twiddled with the drapes of the curtains. "You didn't have to design a whole room." A look of guilt washed over Rowen's face.  
  


Leslie let out a burst of nervous laughter and reassured her. "Oh, it was much worse before you came round."  
  


Rowen continued looking around.  
  


She pointed at the large open space on the back of the room. "I had to move most of the vintage trinkets and clothes in the other room. But some stuff is still lying about since I thought why not. It kind of makes it more homely.”  
  


There was an agreeing hum from her.  
  


She watched Rowen study the place, more importantly: eyeing the portrait on the bedside table. Leslie forgot that photo had been there since she arrived. It got her curious about what her family done decades back.  
  


Printed in monochrome stood two men and a woman. One had been her great-grandfather: Howard Carter. And behind the distance, were the Great Pyramids of Giza.  
  


Rowen picked it up as Leslie sauntered to her.  
  


Leslie pointed at each face. "That's my great-grandfather: Howard Carter." She pointed at the other man. "And I believe that's…Robert Daley? If I recall."  
  


The woman in the photo though, she did know – but not enough to be so sure.  
  


The woman in the photo had her arms around the other two, a whole head smaller than the men. She wore a round hat and an Edwardian outfit. This consisted of a white dress shirt, with a bowstring tie and a long-pleated skirt, matched with boots and dark gloves.  
  


Leslie furrowed her brows. "And that's...I think Emily Darcy?"  
  


" _Emilia_ Darcy." Rowen corrected her. "My…mum talks about her. Said her and grandmother were twins."  
  


Leslie glanced at her, watching Rowen's eye rarely leaving the face of the woman. "I didn't know that." Leslie murmured.  
  


A sigh left her lips and Rowen changed her mood, a relieving tired smile plastered over the reminiscence of sombre. "Well, that's interesting." A guilty look washed over Rowen when she looked back. " And...I'm really sorry for bothering you with all of this. I should have mentioned it sooner-“  
  


Leslie shook her head and laughed. "No, no. It's fine" She gestured her arm outwards. "I've been waiting a while to try and meet you. Dad says your family are good friends of ours and there's nothing wrong with helping each other out."  
  


Thankfully, the petite woman seemed less guilty and even more relieved as she answered back, "Thank you so much. It means a lot when it comes to asking for a room. The condos around here are rather pricey. And I'm only here for a year."  
  


"I know. It took a year to get the permit to even renovate this place." Leslie sighed, a little chuckle escaping her mouth.  
  


Rowen's eyes lit up, and she rushed over to her bags and began unzipping the compartments. "Oh! I almost forgot." She watched her rummage around with her stuff. Various clothes came out, but nothing too drastic. She seemed to wear very contemporary clothes – almost eloquent and formal to Leslie's taste.  
  


Finally, Rowen picked something up and she grew more curious. "I heard you're studying medicine here in NYU." Out in arms reach, Rowen carried a stack of books.  
  


And not just any typical books, ones which Leslie’s been looking for months now.  
  


Leslie took it from her palm slowly, grazing her hand over the covers. They were the latest theories on medicine and neuroscience. Perfect for her research and studies. "Woah, are these-"  
  


"Latest copies of the textbooks." Rowen nodded and grinned. "I thought it would be best to give my homeowner a gift that she needs."  
  


She hugged them tightly and sighed. " _God_ this will reduce all the times when I'm looking for theories." Looking at her, she gave her gratitude. "Thank you so much!”  
  


Rowen gave her a kind smile before allowing Leslie to walk out of her room. She wanted her to have some time to settle down. Leslie thought that with jetlag and having to move for jobs must've been a stressful manoeuvre. Instead, Leslie also informed her that the pantry was free for her to use as well as everything else in the house.  
  


The British woman thanked her for the final time and Leslie left to get ready for this evening's party. ' _Maybe I should invite Rowen?_ ' she wondered, a few hours later since Rowen arrived.  
  


When she knocked on her door, Rowen was still up and awake. Quite oddly awake despite jet lag. (How is that even possible?) She seemed to have settled down, with the suitcase already hidden and some stacks of papers and books on the office desk. She was impressed at the woman and her energy.  
  


‘ _Damn, I wish I looked as good as she is when I’m tired,_ ’ Leslie thought.  
  


Leslie leaned against the door and greeted her. "Hi, hope you're getting settled."  
  


"Indeed, I am," Rowen tidied several clothes away and looked back. She fiddled with her hair, tying it back. "It's so annoying that it has to be New Years as well."  
  


Leslie then suggested. "Well, I was going to ask about that." She paused. "I was hoping if you'd like to come with me to a New Years party. It's practically the whole of NYU."  
  


Rowen hummed.  
  


"But you don't have to, of course." Leslie quickly added.  
  


Shaking her head, Rowen smiled and said. "Oh no, I'd love too! Might be nice to actually spend some time with people around my age.” She commented, “Graduating early does have disadvantages, unfortunately."  
  


"Well," Leslie smirked. "I'll be glad to show you the youthful American life."   
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena II  
  
**

_**2005 - New York City  
  
** _

New York was cold.  
  


Despite the lack of snow and the puffy jackets and woolly hats, Rowena could still see the smoke coming from her mouth every breath she took. The cold wind winded around the tall skyscrapers around her, causing a current of wind – blowing her hair around her.  
  


Her old friend's great-granddaughter invited her to this New Years Eve Party, an event in which members of the local university. She knew that this would come sooner, considering how she timed her flight at the same time as New Year's Eve. Even her dear friend: Antonio – laughed off the irony of it. Antonio was safely on her position as vice chairman of the British National Museum and Natural Museum, and carefully making sure everything was running smoothly.  
  


Work had gotten a bit more hectic back home, and perhaps going to New York for more work was just trying to tell her that she couldn't run away from her any of it. Rowena knew that after partying: it was back to board meetings, dozens of calls and a cycle of research. She only hoped that her previous classmate – now the head of the American Museum of Natural History – would have some structure to help her.  
  


However, Rowena removed the thoughts of work and listened over Leslie's explanation of the night. They were going up to a building near Times Square. Where the ball would drop down, indicating the end of a new year.  
  


They entered the lobby, various men and women, together in groups or pairs, slowly walking about and socializing. Most looked around Leslie's age, in their early twenties. She followed her up to the lift, watching her press the button for the elevator. Once they arrived at the middle floor of the building, she was enveloped by various modern and Art Deco furniture and designs, gracing the corridor until Leslie showed to an open plan hall.  
  


There were tables, drinks and food. it was a mixture of red velvet and gold and silver, with crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. There was a small stage, with a man singing behind a microphone with the jazz band following with him. A large grand piano was placed in the corner, adding more zest and fancy to Rowena's taste. A large window showed the whole city below them.  
  


Leslie linked her arm with hers and gestured her towards several people. They must have been her friends. Rowena kindly smiled as she spotted Leslie hug each one of them. There were four of them; two of them were girls whilst the other two were men.  
  


"You took your time!" The woman with blonde hair spoke with an American accent.  
  


Leslie chuckled and retorted. "It takes time to get this ready, Hailey."  
  


"You're gorgeous without the revealing dress, Les." The other girl, who over-towered the women. "You must introduce us to your friend."  
  


The man who stood by Leslie widened his eyes once he looked at her. "Oh my god...you're Rowen Bates!"  
  


Rowena nodded and smiled. "I'm surprised people know about me across the waters." Assuming the man was a history major, she took his hand and shook it. "You can just call me Rowen."  
  


"Kai Winterson," The Asian man grinned and gushed. "Your work on excavating Assyrian civilisations and the study of populations on the river _Euphrates_ is amazing-"  
  


Leslie interrupted and gave her friend a look. "Kai: No." She gave Rowen an apologetic look. "Sorry about him. He's a history geek."  
  


"Aren't we all?" The other man wrapped his arms around Leslie, in a protective way. He shook her hand as well and introduced himself as Garett Trench. "I'm majoring in history as well, alongside fanboy over there."  
  


Rowena laughed softly. "It's alright. But I'm not exactly here to give out a talk."  
  


"Yeah," Hailey agreed, a glass of champagne in her palm. "We're here to celebrate. To a new year!"  
  


Right on time, a waiter walked past – a tray of glasses. She thanked the waiter alongside Leslie and the six of them clinked their drinks together before taking a sip. They stood by the window – watching the crowd below and the stage on top of the Times Square building.  
  


' _This city has changed so much,_ ' Rowena thought to herself, hiding the nostalgia in her mind.  
  


Remembering those years when the streets were littered with large automobiles and horses grew a heavy feeling in her heart. Now there were cars and buses and an underground train system.  
  


As the group of friends conversed about all sort of things, she quietly listened – feeling much like her real age than they were. Of course, ageing physically was still an issue for her. But ageing mentally and emotionally has been a roller coaster for her. To her, she felt like a grandma in a crowd of little children. Perhaps it was just her mentality – she did grow up during the late _18th_ century. When things seemed so simple for her, and yet so complicated at the same time.  
  


A couple of hours into the party, with the beat of _Usher_ and _Daft Punk_ in the background, Rowena slowly strayed off from Leslie's little group as they got a bit tipsier and more excited. She decided to sit by the window, watching the world go by and thinking a bit too deeply. Several men already came up to her and the odd case of a woman trying to at least put a smile on her face. Though she barely held a conversation with them.  
  


It was either they wanted to get into her pants or sell their ‘obviously’ illegal substances. Sometimes the odd history major came up to her to grab a picture with her, but that had only been once. Once it seemed everyone got comfortable with their partners and friends – it seemed to quiet down.  
  


Then the countdown began. Many had their arms around each other, glasses of wine or champagne. She sipped hers, feeling the ticks of the clock slowly enter her mind.  
  


"Three...two...one..."  
  


"Happy new year!"  
  


When the ball dropped, everybody cheered. Kisses and hugs were shared. Rowena looked down and felt her lips purse into a smile. ' _This generation is always so lively_ ', Rowena thought.  
  


"Two thousand and six." She said quietly to herself. "Two hundred and thirty years, I suppose."  
  


She decided then to get up and begin leaving. With her coat on her arm and an empty glass on the table – she took her phone and exited the hall. Rowena knew not to bother Leslie and was glad that Leslie had given her the spare keys to the house.  
  


Once she got back on the elevator, Rowena began typing onto her phone. It rang for a few times until she heard the familiar voice echo from the device.  
  


"Hello?"  
  


"You should be asleep," Rowena smirked and she heard a gentle yawn.  
  


A young woman's voice replied, "I was...until you woke me up."  
  


Rowena pressed the button for the ground floor and spoke. "Happy New Year, Hettie."  
  


"Happy New Year to you too, grandmamma." Her granddaughter happily replied. "Did you go out? Oh hey, how was the flight?"  
  


Rowena answered back. "Good." She paused before exiting the lift. "And yes, I did go out. Leslie Carter invited me to her university party."  
  


"That must be fun." Hettie hesitated before moaning, "Please say you _actually_ _socialised_."  
  


She chuckled and replied. "Yes, I did. And don't worry about me, darling. I'm fine. I've settled down, I've got work in a few days then everything will be back to normal." That was an understatement.  
  


She imagined her granddaughter rolling her eyes. "Honestly, grandmamma. Relax! It's the holidays! Drink to forget and then worry about work!"  
  


Rowena laughed, knowing well how much Hettie worried about her wellbeing. "I will, darling."  
  


"Alright. I trust that you hold onto that.”  
  


"Get some rest, darling." She smoothly spoke.  
  


Hettie answered, "I will. Call when you're free sometime, grandmama."  
  


Hanging up, Rowena placed her phone back into her pocket before entering the cold. There were people singing hymns and the familiar tune of the Scottish song: _Auld Lang Syne_. Putting her coat on, she ventured out into the cold – wading through the crowd back to the brownstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited on 09/2020]: Currently revisiting parts 1 and 2 to tidy things up for future parts.


	3. The Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally arriving at the museum, Rowena reunites with her friend, Dr McPhee after years apart. They discuss about the future of the museum as Rowena is mentioned of its struggles to stay open. During a tour, she comes across two people she wished she met in different circumstance.
> 
> On the other side of New York, Larry Daley, a divorcee and father: bumped into a young woman in Central Park. After several misunderstandings and a safe wallet, a friendship blossoms between him and the museum curator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back. A few things to discuss really. First thing is that I currently editing several chapters ahead, hoping that I haven't messed up several of the details. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the kudos. I'm glad that you're enjoying this, though please consider I am a bit of slow writer and editor so posting the next chapter might not be until another few days. At these certain times, we're currently in lockdown, therefore I have more time to write. But I want to try and vary between different works, so bear with me.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, and have a nice day. :)

** Rowena III  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

Work came around sooner as she thought. Planning the trip to America had been a short notice to Rowena, and landed her to having to balance work, life, and her further research more. It didn't help as well that is was the holidays for most of the workforce. Most of the board for the museums were partying away and her managers were trying to plan out for the new year.  
  


That left Rowena stuck between working for three museums. The one back home in London, the one in Cairo and the newest one being in New York. She had, of course, separate organisations to help her maintain the museums. But with the world changing so rapidly for the past few decades: it had been harder to manage all three.  
  


On other things, she had been in the states for only one short time in the past. That had been quite a while back, just after the last world war. She rarely thought of anything else about America other than the fact that this was where most of the people she met fled to. Several people from the past two hundred years crossed the Atlantic sea with dreams and hope of new beginnings. She hoped to have lived a part of her life here, though the opportunity never crossed her path. Or the moment where there was a possibility was lost in the past.  
  


She was glad one of her closest friend's family moved over to the states, owning a tiny part of New York in the form of a brownstone building.  
  


Leslie, somehow, was a reminder of the things Howard Carter had been. In the short of a few hours, Rowena saw the passion Leslie had for her subject and her integrity on medical research. The books Rowena handed to her that first meeting showed, and Rowena was thankful she remembered that the youngest Carter was studying that particular subject.  
  


Their first encounter only saw the surface of who Leslie was. And considering living at the age of two-hundred-and-thirty-three years old, Rowena knew it takes time to know a person.  
  


Nevertheless, she had breakfast quietly in the kitchen. Howard's great-granddaughter arrived back to the brownstone quite late from her hospital shift. And she knew too well not to disturb anyone sleeping at this time of the day. Instead, she cleaned her new suite for a bit, rummaging to get ready for her first day at the museum.  
  


She kept her hair down, hoping that it would keep her ears from freezing off. With her body wrapped tightly in a coat, hat, and boots, Rowena grabbed her satchel and headed for the door. She quickly scribbled a note for Leslie, letting her know she would be out for the whole day.  
  


Once she exited, the next challenge was to head to the museum. She knew not to drive in the city, knowing what the traffic was in New York. Walking down to the end of the street, she remembered the route to one of the subway stations. She checked her watch a few times to make sure she wasn't running too late and began her journey into the maze.  
  


The subway was whirlwind of hell. It seemed that the mixture of the cold and the warm underground didn't go too well. Everyone was in puffed-up coats but sweating due to the heat of the crowd. Even at the early hours of the day, there was a cluster of people around her, some busking in the stations. The usual dog was barking at a rat crawling on the rail line. She began going through her plans for today in her head until she arrived at her stop.  
  


When she got out – Rowena was met by a landscape of white and green. Central Park was stunning. It was as if someone placed a white coat over the small pocket of nature in a sea of buildings. There was a fair amount of people. Families walking their children to school. Tourists taking photographs of the winding paths. The chirping and tweeting of birds perched on the naked branches. It made Rowena quirk her lips before turning back her focus to her destination.  
  


The American Museum of Natural History stood proud and tall, facing towards the park. Its ionic columns lining across the front made the building mask a Roman-Greco style building. Some people were entering the front doors. Not as much as what the British Museums had.  
  


' _Perhaps it's just that it isn't the holidays anymore_ ,' Rowena convinced herself, but she knew better than this was only a small excuse.  
  


With a small intake of breath, she walked up the steps and entered the building.  
  


As Rowena went through the doors, she was met by a life-sized exhibit of a dinosaur. The tyrannosaurus stood out and proud – its bones suspended by several poles held below on the plaque. Behind the dinosaur were the front desk and ticket holder with a large globe of the Earth rotating in the middle. It glowed under the natural light whilst Rowena approached it.  
  


Right in the main entrance was the wax statue of Theodore Roosevelt. Portrayed with a valour pose, his statue stood proudly looking up to the windows, his sword raised as he sat upon a horse. She knew some trivial things about the former man, though not to the extent as to recall anything other than his time in his presidency.  
  


Standing behind the front desk was a woman, brown hair tied back, wearing a red long-sleeved shirt. She was smiling kindly at the child with their parent across the counter, passing a crayon and a sheet of paper. Once the woman waved goodbye to the family, she looked up to Rowena and widened her eyes.  
  


Rowena walked over to the desk and asked, "Hello, I'm looking for Dr McPhee?"  
  


Their eyes continued to widen in a mixture of surprise and attention. "You're Rowen Bates-" The woman quickly spoke, cheeks pink, but then sheepishly added. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."  
  


Rowena wore an amused look. "It's alright.” She tried to reduce the awkwardness. “I assume you know me?”  
  


"Yes. I mean-"  
  


The woman stuttered and Rowena patiently waited for her to compose herself. "I'm just...big fan. I didn't know you'd be actually coming; I mean today. Of course, you're coming since Dr McPhee's mentioned it to us. Your work with Egyptology and Mediterranean Civilizations have always been amazing to read back in university! And that was only a couple of years back."  
  


Rowena couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks warming up. "Thank you. I'm glad people find my family's work to be helpful – let alone interesting. I always found discovering the work is much more enjoyable."  
  


The woman sighed. "You're not wrong. Archaeology must be an amazing experience." She paused. "Oh! I forgot! I'll show to Dr McPhee right now."  
  


As they ventured into the corridors, Rowena learned her name to be Rebecca Hutman, now in her early thirties, and currently doing her PhD. Her enthusiasm for Native America and the story of the pilgrimage surprised Rowena's perception of students nowadays. Hearing people discussing moments during her own life made it feel odd for her.  
  


They ventured down to the many corridors of the museum, feeling a sense of curiosity to see the exhibits. She read the information online about the museum, how it came together by the end of the first world war. The first things that appeared here were the exhibits that depicted the American civil war.  
  


Once she spotted the familiar figure hunched over a table filled with pottery and jewellery, Rowena felt her heartbeat.  
  


Rebecca knocked onto the research facility door and the man whined behind the desk, "What now?"  
  


He turned, finding Rowena's eyes on his.  
  


He fumbled down the tweezers and coughed away. Standing up, his expression changed – a sort of relief in his face. "Oh thank _God_ it's you."  
  


"It's good to see you too, Richard." Rowena formed a smile.  
  


Rebecca looked confused at the interaction.  
  


"We went to school and worked together." Rowena inputted.  
  


"I taught her," He waved his hand.  
  


Rowena maintained her grin as she replied, "If you prefer to imply your age then yes."  
  


When she glanced over at Rebecca, she caught her stifle a mixture of awkwardness and amusement. She guessed that McPhee had one other façade to show when it comes to running the business.  
  


"Well, uh." Rebecca trailed. "I should probably head back. It's lovely to meet you, Rowen."  
  


As the door closed shut, Rowena turned back round to find a tired-looking man. Richard McPhee sat down and placed the latex gloves onto the examination table. Once the task lamp turned off, she was already walking over.  
  


"Bloody Americans." He shook his head and looked at her. She said nothing and he gestured for the seat opposite him.  
  


She answered. "Can't say that when you've been living here for five years."  
  


He turned away to the window and snorted.  
  


Richard hadn't changed at all. Rough and sensitive on the edges and rarely got along with extroverted people. She guessed that the many years of working with him that she was wormed her way into his little perfectly spherical bubble.  
  


Richard retorted."I still have the accent though." He clapped his hands together and changed his tone, a rather upbeat and less frustrated one. "Now, since you're finally here. Let's go over the initial plans for the project."  
  


She watched him take something from under his desk, revealing to be a stack of pages worth of the plans and business proposals her board of governors has shared with the New York Museum.  
  


He continued to ramble on: "Firstly, I'm absolutely glad it's you and not Paladino-"  
  


"Richard." Her voice grew stiff as she narrowed her eyes at him. As much as she was a friend to McPhee. She respected all her friends and colleagues and didn’t tolerate anything said against them or within their business.  
  


Richard's face contorted to frustrations and exasperated, "He never liked me! He thought I was stuck up and closed up.” He gestured to himself. “Well, guess what happened to me-"  
  


Her lips hardened to a line and didn’t comment on it. In her head, she was sighing in annoyance at Richard’s childish acts. ‘ _Those two…I really don’t understand their friendship at all._ ’  
  


"Let's talk about the deal." Rowena changed the subject as quickly as possible, removing her bag from her shoulders.  
  


He sat up straighter, eyeing the files she began flicking through. There were diagrams and dates of when their expansion and collaboration would begin and end.  
  


Rowen explained, "So the board wants me and my team to expand our research and showcase." She looked up to Richard. "The first thing is trying to come up with ideas to make the museum more appealing to our target audience, practically schools in New York and tourists. Then we could process on what resources we need and if we need to import new exhibits from the Smithsonian-"  
  


"Alright, alright. Slow down." He breathed in and exhaled.  
  


Rowen stopped, concerned by the nervous expression he now wore.  
  


Richard revealed, "Well, the problem first is staffing."  
  


It took only a second for her to agree with him. The only one that had been outside the main entrance was Rebecca. She hardly saw any other curators, security nor administrators around. "I can tell."  
  


He continued to look at his files.  
  


Rowena internally breathed before she questioned, "Richard, why didn't you tell me that there's a small number of people working here and the number of people coming through?"  
  


Awkwardly, he answered. "Well...it's just been slow."  
  


She gave him another persuading look to continue.  
  


He paused. "There's hardly been any good applicants. Kids these days have television shows and toys and the internet!” Richard scoffed. “They don't understand things such as books and research. I don't want them touching things they don't understand and risk of damaging them."  
  


She blankly stared at him. Did he believe such a thing as this?  
  


"Not everyone." Rowena calmly responded but quickly changed the subject. "Well, if we could find some good, trustworthy staff first and then we can start on ideas of exhibits. Public polls could be beneficial as well as an external advisor in advertisements."  
  


Richard wore a soured look and shook his head.  
  


"I don't know, Rowen..."  
  


She placed her hand onto the desk, edging her body from the chair. Rowen softly spoke. "Don't give up what you've gained, Richard. As your friend and business partner, I'm not leaving you behind on this. This is a team effort, and we need every help we could get."  
  


Rowen meant every word she said, even if there was a flicker of doubt in Richard's face in which Rowen tried to ignore. Though either way, it was the only way in pushing his friend and keep his life from the brink of despair. And the museum was the only thing that was keeping her friend from stumbling back to Britain.  
  


When she first met Richard McPhee, she found potential locked in a dark classroom in Cambridge. Her first impression of him was his lack of gusto to make people look at his direction. He bore people to death, to Rowena's dismay, and never showed clear enthusiasm to his subject.  
  


As years gone past, Rowena had the patience to improve his teaching and take him from the cycle of education. It was difficult at first, but a few heated arguments and life lessons, she got through his hot-headed brain.  
  


However, she knew that it was all McPhee's doing. She had only helped him realise that there was a world outside that city they lived and studied in.  
  


Finally, Richard sighed and held his hands up. "Okay, okay. We'll start with staffing and getting a team. But how are we getting the funding for this?  
  


"Well, that's why we're doing a collaboration. If we pitch the ideas, perhaps get university students in to help - might be useful for their credits." She suggested.  
  


He hummed. "Not a bad plan." Richard eyed her as he paused. "You will be offering these ideas to the board of course?"  
  


"Absolutely." Rowena smiled and wrote down some notes. She'll need to remember to call the board and her group for a meeting. "You just need to assure yourself that this is good. Change...is _good_."  
  


"So, I'm assuming you'd like to start today? Your office is just down from mine. " He spoke.  
  


Rowena nodded and both began to stand up. Once they reached the door, she stopped once he opted to speak.  
  


"Do you want a tour? Before all hell breaks loose?" Richard asked her.  
  


Her eyes gazed down the empty corridor, the many doors leading to the showcases of past history. A flutter of her heart made Rowena eagerly step forward, not until humming. She smiled, "Of course."  
  


Richard nodded curtly before the two began walking down to the main area, with Rowena stepping a little bit more forward than him.  
  


"Also, I've got so much to tell you," Rowena added. "You won't believe what Antonio decided to give his wife last Christmas."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
  
**

Her work took her to many places, visiting the furthest parts of the world she could ever imagine since she first laid eyes to a map. A century ago, she wouldn't think of herself venturing into rainforests, volcanic islands, and mountainous regions. Now, Rowena was working with people across the whole world, either helping with projects or running them. She had seen many museums as well, aiding many curators and business people to set their own little place to record their history.  
  


It hadn't stopped her from being at awe at the New York Exhibitions.  
  


A mixture of history in life ranging from animals, plants, and the earth. Whilst Rowena did record some ideas to improve the museum, she did take in as much on the location of the exhibits and the information. She knew very well about the Romans, having spent most of her lifetime in the Mediterranean region.  
  


The Diorama was part of the miniature re-enactments of each civilisation, Wild Western America, the Aztecs, and the Romans. The artistry was rather detailed, being painted by several artists and historians to Richard's knowledge. The Civil War exhibit told a different story, allowing Rowena to seep into the past. She remembered stories of the British losing their colony, and perhaps felt quite glad it turned out to be this way. It was hard to imagine then how there were so many possibilities that could have happened, and always wondered how it would be like if history ever was changed.  
  


The animal kingdom exhibit consisted of savannas, rainforests, and aquatic animals. She stared up at the monkey wax figures and found them quite cute and terrifying by its realism. Once Richard and Rowena went round to almost every part of the museum, they arrived at a dimly lit room.  
  


They entered the Egyptian exhibit, feeling the cold draft enter the tall room. Tall columns lined down the path, decorated by hieroglyphics dating back to the Old Kingdom. Large Jackal soldier statues were perched on the sides of the room, making the glass-cased sarcophagus a perfect enhancement to the exhibit. As Rowena walked forward from Richard's side, her eyes darted over to the wall.  
  


On the wall was a golden tablet, with nine-panel slots fixated onto it. It hung over a wall of text, shining quite proudly from the lights.  
  


The tablet of Ahkmenrah.  
  


It like seeing a memory again as Rowena felt her body freeze. Her breath hitched as her eyes never left the tablet. ' _The tablet...could it mean..._ ' She thought.  
  


At that moment, she dared not to think of the exhibit placed behind her.  
  


"What's the problem?"  
  


Richard broke Rowena's mental freeze as she quickly blinked. She was only a few feet away from the tablet, wanting to lift her hand to touch it until she pulled back. Rowena paused to compose herself.  
  


She brushed his question aside, "Nothing at all."  
  


When Rowena heard Richard walk up to her side, she elaborated: "Just...my great-aunt once excavated this. And my grandmother mentioned that it was sent to Cambridge after the war."  
  


She wasn't expecting Richard to reply, but he hummed nonetheless and added. "Well, it doesn't really do anything, anymore. Just a little bit of decoration."  
  


_'Yes, just a little bit of decoration_.' Rowena sarcastically thought. She wanted to joke about it, but now a feeling of worry surfaced into her head.  
  


Instead, she frowned and spoke. "Perhaps. the Egyptians loved their magic and gods."  
  


Richard snorted. "I'm just hoping no one decides to steal the only thing that's keeping this place open." He turned his head to the entrance of the exhibit. "Cecil!"  
  


Turning around, she spotted a man (around his seventies) wearing a sort of security uniform enter the exhibits. He walked swiftly to them, over looming both her and Richard's heights despite his hunched body. The two men shook each other's hands.  
  


"Dr McPhee, good day?" The man asked.  
  


Richard bluntly replied. "Well with depleting number of tourists and the museum's being underfunded: it's going fantastically."  
  


His eyes darted down to her.  
  


"Ah, Cecil. This is Dr Rowen Bates." Her friend gestured to her.  
  


She held her hand and she looked up to the man and saw his eyes widen slightly before it hardened - as if he had seen already seen something pass her. After they shook hands, Rowena pulled back softly, trying her best to seem as if she hadn't seen the man's change of emotion.  
  


"She's working with the museum for the time being." Richard finished. "Helping to improve our little...situation with funding."  
  


Cecil hummed and spoke to her directly. "Ah… you're one of Joanna's grandchildren."  
  


It wasn't a question, and Rowena answered anyways. "Yes. Did you know my grandmother well?"  
  


He leaned down to her, a hardened gaze on Rowena. Years of learning people's character taught her to keep calm.  
  


"I have. And well... let me indulge your question.” He said, “Women like her seem to have risen up to ranks as much as yours with effort and work...some with other measures."  
  


Rowena kept her eyes on his and she curtly answered with a confident voice. "I'll let her know."  
  


"Hmm." Cecil nodded, eyeing Richard before turning back and walking out of the exhibition.  
  


She mentally sighed in relief, taking a moment to process what had happened. Sensing Richard's glance, she prepared herself for his questions.  
  


"What was that about?" He asked.  
  


Pursing her lips, she replied. "I'm not sure." Rowena half-truthfully said. "Must be a grudge against my grandmother.”  
  


"Sibling rivalry?"  
  


"In a way: yes." She stared back at the tablet and gazed over to the glass case. "She never told me the whole story. Of her and my great aunt. People hated her...and people loved her."  
  


"History's pretty much like that." Richard rambled. "Emilia Darcy was primarily one of the best archaeologists and historians in the world alongside her sister Joanna."  
  


She gulped before adding, "Then the second world war broke out. My grandmother spied for the Allies to return the Parisian artefacts...my great-aunt died during the blitz. And then my grandmother decided to help continue her sister’s work after her death.”  
  


Rowena felt her fingers numbing from the pressure of her fists. When she noticed them go white, she let go and sighed. The pressure of lying after centuries had gotten almost too easy for Rowena. Though in some cases, some moments of her life would never make her comfortable enough to feel unfazed by it.  
  


There was something too raw and naked with particular memories, and that had included having to go through those long years in the early twentieth century. With two names at the same time - two more lives she had lived through.  
  


With a mental reassurance to herself, Rowena followed Richard out of the exhibit, feeling a sense of dread in her mind.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry I  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

Larry Daley lived in a world of constant change, and that was an understatement.  
  


He was brought up surrounded by change. At first, it had been buildings and scenery. Tiny small houses grew to skyscrapers that soared and touched the sky. Cars that had little horns outside their windows morphed into fashionable sports cars and limousines.  
  


And then his whole lifestyle changed - perhaps a little too much. His mind was always up in the clouds, dreaming and creating things. Like little toys, contraptions; Larry considered himself as an inventor at a young age. His parents of course followed his dreams of creativity, but never were afraid to doubt his ambitions.  
  


He wanted his work to succeed, though every time he ended on the highway of success: the road always stopped a little to sooner for Larry. So soon in fact that you would never find his products being advertised on billboards or people gossiping about the latest 'Daley Device' that came out. Perhaps he dreamed too high into the clouds and forgot to check how sturdy his wings were. It was the constant change that led Larry right now, one lunch break at his current temporary job.  
  


But a little thing kept him up on this day. His family.  
  


Larry remembered distinctively of his grandfather telling him many things, as a member of the Daleys who lived through the world wars. ' _Never be bounded to achieve a dream_ ,' Larry recited as he reminded himself the very things why he continued to live through a shitty job.  
  


Today, he needed a few of his grandfather's words to keep him going through the whole day. Working as a janitor was not the most exciting thing Larry has ever done but it gave him time to ponder on some things. And what better way was walking around Central Park.  
  


The park was beautiful despite the bare trees and thawing snow. There was still a sense of life around him despite the dead and bare park. He strolled with his hands in his pockets, watching several people pass by. There was a couple walking hand in hand and a busker wrapped up in a beanie and scarf.  
  


When Larry spotted a man walking with his son, his heart swelled. The son looked happy, a grin on his lips as the dad spoke about something that made him laugh. Once they left around the corner, Larry imagined himself with his own son: Nick. He only got to see him a few times, considering how he was mostly in school now.  
  


But of course, as divorced parents: it was difficult to get through the emotional baggage it carried.  
  


He walked down closer to the lake until he glanced ahead of him.  
  


A woman walked away until something dropped onto the pavement. Larry at instinct rushed over to what she had dropped. As he picked it up, he looked over to notice she hadn't realised.  
  


"Uh, miss?" He shouted.  
  


As the woman stopped and turn, Larry reached out the small object to her. "You dropped your wallet."  
  


Her eyes laid on his face for a couple of seconds until it gazed down to where he placed it. With brown widening eyes, she strode over to him. Larry gave her a small smile as he passed it back to her.  
  


She gushed, "Oh! Thank you so much!" He watched her tuck it into the satchel she carried as she continued, "It had my ID and cards and everything! Thank gods. Thank you, uh-" Her voice trailed to silence as she once looked back to him.  
  


Caught with his tongue twisted, he held his hand out again.  
  


"Lawrence, but uh… call me Larry." He introduced himself.  
  


The woman gently shook his hand and gave him a warm smile. Her warm eyes sending him twitching his lips. "Thank You, Larry." She glanced over to the side and looked back at him. "I'd offer a coffee but I don't really know where I am."  
  


"Oh, are you trying to get somewhere?" Larry asked.  
  


She replied. "Lunch preferably."  
  


Larry paused for a moment to think. He wasn't really intending anything, though when he looked at the woman again - he felt something in his mind to suggest something completely out of his comfort zone.  
  


"Well, I don't know if any of my suggestions will be sufficient." He began. "But by what I can hear from your accent, I assume you haven't tried New York's finest cuisine."  
  


She hummed and smiled. "Not that I have.” She asked, “What do you think is the best place to try out?"  
  


While he thought of any places nearby, he studied her appearance. Short would be a little too offensive to point out, even if the woman wore heeled boots. Her hair was braided at the side, neatly out of her face. Cheeks flushed by the cold and freckles dotted over her button nose. If he did make a comment of it, Larry thought of her as a model by the hollowed cheeks and shaped lips.  
  


Not that he was looking at her lips.  
  


‘ _Stop, Daley_.’ He told himself.  
  


"New York-style pizza. There's a good restaurant. Not too posh but decent enough without food poisoning." Larry suggested, eyeing her to see a reaction.  
  


Nodding, she answered. "Thanks. I'll take note." She paused. "But I have to get back to work. Do you by any chance know the way back to the Museum of Natural History?"  
  


Larry quirked a brow. "You work at the museum?"  
  


"Yes." Her tone of voice was a mixture in Larry's ear. A mix between confusion and...pride maybe.  
  


He raised his brows and replied. "That's interesting."  
  


To his view, he didn't come to tell the link between the woman and a historian. She wore very modern clothing, or maybe he was getting old. He still wore stuff that was considered too 90s in other people's perspectives.  
  


"I don't look the part?" She asked, a teasing tone in her voice.  
  


Larry widened his eyes and waved his hand. "No! I mean: yes. I mean..." He quietened down. "No."  
  


Laughing, she grinned. He was relieved that she didn’t take any offence on what he almost said.  
  


"I'm just joking with you." She also answered. "And yes, just started a few days ago."  
  


The tension dispersed, and Larry couldn't help but grin back. "And? Starting to sneeze?"  
  


She replied. "I'm rather immune to the layering dust now." She chuckled. "No, it's just been a slow day - that's all."  
  


"I can relate." He paused. "I work as a janitor at this business enterprise." Larry expected a twitch of a frown on the woman's face but saw nothing of discomfort from her.  
  


She instead tilted her head and said. "Really? I...I'd look at you…" Brown curious eyes wandered from his face to his body, and back to him. "And you scream ‘designer’ or ‘founder’ of one."  
  


"Is it the face?" He gestured, tilting his chin up to an angle.  
  


The woman grinned again and shook her head. "No...and I'm sorry."  
  


Larry chuckled. "It's okay. I mean, you're like…uh- twenty-five?"  
  


"Twenty three, but thanks." The woman spoke with a small grin. "Let's others take me seriously if I seem older."  
  


He must be red-cheeked now. Larry really needed to stop making these comments.  
  


He hummed. "Hmm, it's been a while since people have taken me seriously." He paused. "Enough of that. Lunch."  
  


As Larry stepped next to her, she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "You must be busy, though?” She asked.  
  


"Nah," He waved her off. "I've got plenty of time until my shift."  
  


Larry waited for her response, a ponder on her face until she glanced back and smiled. He followed suit and allowed himself to walk.  
  


The woman spoke. "If you will be taking me to lunch. I'd like to be called by a name that isn't just lady, thank you."  
  


"Am I allowed to ask her name then?" Larry quipped back.  
  


With a small smile, she responded. "Rowen."  
  


"Okay, Rowen." Larry clapped his hands. "Let me give you a taste of New York's finest pizza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 09/2020]: Revisiting parts 1 and 2 to tidy things up and make things neat for future chapters.


	4. A New Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get back to young and resurrected Rowena Clarke, who returns back to Britain to see her family again. Along the way, she tries to find the reason behind her condition as well as experiencing a revolution in a nation during the last decade of the 18th Century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited: 09/2020] At this moment, I am currently editing parts 1 and 2. Making sure things are tidy for parts 3 and 4.

**Rowena IV  
  
**

**_1800 - Plymouth  
  
_ **

Her return to Plymouth took six years.  
  


Those six years in Europe had taught her more than the rooms of her own childhood home. Cultures that surprised Rowena in many ways that she had miraculously prevented each encounter from merging into one. The first two months had been picking up herself and reconciling the things that had happened.  
  


Like for one: what happened at Pompeii.  
  


Rowena struggled to comprehend at first about her death.  
  


For the first few days, it was difficult to contend on reality – and if she was truly alive. She still breathed the air around her; she could touch the harsh stony walls of homes and the leather of the saddle and the furs of the mane. There were moments during her return to the broken camp where Rowena could not believe of being alive again, that somehow: she had achieved the impossible. Everything in which the scholars and teachers have told her of life and death - had been tossed out of the window.  
  


Rowena knew at first, she had to lie.  
  


Her husband was gone, perished by the ground shaking and damage of the ancient buried city. A few were left, those that had survived the purge of killers that were after the treasures. As much as she didn’t care for Nathaniel, she was heartless. She was brought up as a noblewoman with a set of moral standards. Yes, Rowena didn’t love him. But she would never want anyone to be led to a gruesome death.  
  


Perhaps it was why when she stared down at his grave, Rowena experienced the mournful sorrow people wore. It made her question herself why it had been her. Why she and not her husband?  
  


No one would possibly believe a woman of colour that she was resurrected. It was unheard of, verging into witchcraft. Rowena was relieved that her group believed her when she said that they buried a woman that was almost like her and failed to find any more evidence of her supposed death.  
  


So, six months in Italy passed, and the group of treasure hunters returned to the British Isles. Austria and Switzerland had astonishing mountains and fresh cool air, quite different from the hot humid climate of Naples. Rowena had eagerly wanted to return to her family as soon as possible but knew the recent news travelling from France held her back.  
  


The monarchy of France had fallen, and most of the French were revolting against them. Rowena knew, as the heir of a family name and the link with royalty - she would be identified as a supporter.  
  


Instead, she laid down low. With the help of several members who assisted her husband and slowly gained respect with her, Rowena settled in the rural villages of Switzerland. There, she decided to plan out her investigation. Finding what had happened to her, and how she could reverse it.  
  


In the beginning, her research led to many dead ends. Often, she would be banished from their libraries due to her own appearance, until the old men looking after the library had given up. Rowena spent days researching, writing pages worth of notes, and understanding current knowledge. She kept her research hidden well, written in her own coded writing, and kept in the bottom of her chest.  
  


The terror in France continued, and Rowena continued to learn and adapt in the world run by a society that shunned her existence. She had gained more knowledge of history and treasure hunting - almost respecting the subjects more clearly than previously. Rowena wished the activity of stealing historical artefacts would have a better name fit for it. Though she hadn't mind. She had lost herself to knowledge, learning Italian and French and a bit of Latin once the revolution finished.  
  


It had ended after the restoration of a new spectrum of governance. Rowena and her group of British travellers passed through France gradually, being undetected by suspicious people that were against them. Rowena had begun to see a new perspective of life, and that had been hardship and labour. Watching common lowborn people living their daily lives changed Rowena's aspect of civilisation and doubted her parents. Maybe those six years abroad meant more to her than she had expected.  
  


As her foot stepped onto British soil, her heart almost stopped hadn’t she remembered to take a breath the moment she saw him.  
  


Rowena glanced her eyes in front of her, only to find a pair of blue eyes upon an ageing face. She began to walk towards him, and the closer she got: her steps quickened until she ran.  
  


For six years, she had finally got back and cried into her father's arms.  
  


She did not care for her rugged appearance or stench, and perhaps her father didn't care at all. She was at home. And that was all that mattered to her.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

**_1803 - Plymouth  
  
_ **

Her father didn’t believe her at first.  
  


When Rowena confessed about her condition in the late night of spring, Harold Clarke stared at her and wondered if she was ill.  
  


It gutted her. She had always been honest with her father, never lied and never kept anything from her parents. So something that she cared so much for, and was quickly denied: Rowena sensed a bit of disappointment.  
  


But three years have passed. Her mother: The Duchess Eleanor of Cornwall already left their world before she could meet her the final time. And too soon for Rowena and her father's dismay.  
  


She knew that her mother loved her and cared for her as a child. But there was always some hesitation in the public perspective of their love. Her mother's care was distant, but Rowena still took it into arms reach.  
  


As those years passed: Rowena’s appearance never changed, whereas her father had aged too much.  
  


One afternoon, she ventured up to the hilltop, overlooking the Clarke Estate and the town by the coast. Her father was sat under the sycamore tree. His legs grew weaker when she arrived back to Britain. His crutches turned into wheeled chairs that allowed her to move her father around the estate. So, he sat idly on the wheelchair, pushed by one of the carers.  
  


However, in this case, he was by himself when she spotted him watching the landscape. It brought back her memories of him and her, sitting with her mother as they spent the day together under the sun.  
  


When his familiar eyes glimmered with happiness as he spotted her, Rowena smiled back and walked over to sit beside him. They decided to sit and watched the scenery for a few minutes, letting Rowena delve into her thoughts.  
  


Harold then spoke, "I believe you now."  
  


Rowena's mind stopped and she glanced at his face. He seemed to look pained, almost a mixture of sadness and guilt.  
  


"I apologise...for never trusting your word." He breathed. "You would never have said something like that if it was the truth.”  
  


Her heart skipped a beat.  
  


“And I believe it in my own eyes," Harold whispered.  
  


She gulped and looked away.  
  


Her father spoke, "I remembered the day I found you.” He paused. “You were only just a babe - protected by a wooden crate and a rag wrapped around you.”  
  


Picking up the daisy beside her, she twirled it around her fingers.  
  


Harold continued, “We assumed you were saved through luck from a storm.” He looked at her. “Though I assumed something else."  
  


"What was it?” She asked him, placing the flower down to shuffle closer to his spot.  
  


He fixated his tired eyes into hers. "That God gave me a gift. Something that I could not have myself.” Harold's lips formed a smile as he said proudly. “And now God has granted me more than that."  
  


She felt her eyes water. Her heart swelled.  
  


His expression was left in a confused state.  
  


Rowena bared her teeth and whispered. "Father, you must realise that...I cannot age.” She paused to take another breath as she then choked out: “I will have to watch so many...the people that I will dearly love."  
  


"Then you must be strong, Rowena." Harold urged her, a bold confident tone.  
  


She stared at him with disbelief. Did he not realise how difficult it was for her, to see her father like this? How could he manage to hear something so morbid at him?  
  


Her father explained: "The world you have discovered; the world that I have tried to hide from you as much as we could - have taught you only the simplest things."  
  


Rowena wiped the tear falling down her cheek.  
  


Harold Clarke told her:  
  


"The world is a beautiful and dangerous place.” He reached his hand into hers. “And you must accept change like a handkerchief."  
  


“I don’t think I’ll be able to, Father.” She clenched her eyes, trying her best not to cry. “I don’t know if I have the strength.”  
  


“My daughter; my _gift_.” He called to her, interlocking his fingers with hers. “You are stronger than what you believe yourself to be.”  
  


“ _Never_ forget who you are,” Harold spoke clearly, stressing every word he said to her. “Even if the world is crumbling down, and you feel like everyone is gone. You are never alone. You will find people, and someday you will find someone out there that might share the same condition as you. But remember your name, and who you were. Promise me?”  
  


Nodding, she leaned over and embraced him tightly - tears falling down her cheeks. Rowena wiped the tears from hers before assisting to wipe his, watching her father smile at her. She wanted to cry and scream, to tell him that her condition was not a gift but a curse.  
  


She could feel his heavy erratic breathing, a mixture of pain in his chest, and perhaps the tears the glided over his cheeks. The scent of soft cotton and pine on his clothes, a constant reminder of the times she embraced him as a child. A hand rested onto her shoulder and it made her cry harder than before.  
  


However, Rowena let the words sink in and kept silent. She knew time was short for her and her father. She would spend the last moments of her father's life by his side, letting him tell her the many stories of her childhood and life once more.  
  


She would keep his promise with him, wear it on her sleeve until she could prove the odds that her immortality was only temporary.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_1804 - London  
  
_ **

They arrived in Kensington in the late hours of the afternoon, having an issue with the horses halfway through Southampton a few days ago.  
  


Rowena clambered out of the carriage and allowed her eyes to adjust with the lighting. Her head tilted upwards, to find the terrace house in front. She thanked the carriage chauffeur and allowed her governess to guide her towards the door. A guard followed them behind, protecting them with hidden weapons underneath his coat. As the door opened, the man at the door gestured for her to enter and she thanked him.  
  


As he bowed, her governess – Lady Flora Denver – thanked them.  
  


"We thank you for your invitation, please let Mr Davinier that we offer his courtesy to him."  
  


"Of course, madame." The man nodded and held his hand. "Please follow me. Mrs Davinier will be in the drawing-room at this moment."  
  


Rowena had never expected meeting someone in a similar position as herself. So, when the news of Lord Mansfield's release of freedom to his niece, The Lady Dido Elizabeth Belle, Rowena wanted to meet the woman that changed the course of social stigma.  
  


Flora decided to not disturb her meeting with Lady Dido, so she left her sitting in the drawing-room with a fresh cup of tea. The tall window overlooked the street outside, different to the landscape of the Clarke Estate – now her own estate. She took a sip and tried not to fidget on her seat. When the door opened, she stood up and turned around to face the incoming figures.  
  


Lady Dido held an air of sophistication and yet humbleness. Rowena curtsied when the servant introduced her and vice verso.  
  


"Do sit, Lady Rowena."  
  


The older woman gestured, and Rowena complied and sat down.  
  


As she sat down as well as her, Rowena asked. "Tea?"  
  


"Thank you." Lady Dido sat across from the table and waited for her to pour the tea from the pot into one of the china cups. Rowena sat back once she was done and took a sip from hers once Lady Dido got comfortable.  
  


"It is a surprise. The word of another woman of my colour among the higher class felt like a rumour to my liking." Lady Dido’s eyes bore into hers. "I had not imagined to even sit in the presence of her."  
  


Her cheeks warmed and Rowena smiled kindly. "I hadn't imagined it as well. Your uncle's liberation in the act of abolition was what gave the spark of my father's passing.” She discussed. “He had no heirs, and was willing to offer the title, name, and property to my own."  
  


Lady Dido's eyes widened across her. "Really?"  
  


She nodded.  
  


"Your father must have been a kind and caring man, and a father as well." Lady Dido hummed. "I will always be grateful for my family's care for me. I was happy, and I am glad you were as well, Lady Rowena."  
  


Sipping first, Rowena placed her tea down and began to ask Lady Dido further questions. "As much as I do enjoy your company, Lady Dido; I wanted to discuss with you some matters. Your son's proposal as an apprentice for the Egyptian expedition."  
  


She glanced back at her, a serious expression on her face. "Of course. John had told me to discuss it with you considering how you will be funding for it. I of course was willing to have a fair share of the expense as well, if you are sure."  
  


"Yes of course." Rowena nodded. "It would be wonderful to have your son join my group in Cairo."  
  


"What is your expedition if I may ask?" Lady Dido questioned.  
  


Rowena placed the cup down and explained it. "My father was the head of the organisation towards expeditions for ancient civilisations. He and I both had an interest in history due to the recent discovery of ancient Egyptians." She paused. "Mister Bankes would like to personally have your son as an apprentice, to engage in the long trip."  
  


"How long?"  
  


"I assumed three to four years, my lady."  
  


A surprising sound escaped Lady Dido's lips. She wavered. "Four years? That's rather long."  
  


"The first few years would be our planning stage and research. I am a...patron to the British Museum. It will be a few months to sail to Egypt, and then we will be venturing down the land's river – the River Nile-" Rowena spoke but was interrupted by the nervous tone of the older woman.  
  


"Lady Rowena, I appreciate your concern for my son." Lady Dido breathed. "Though, I will have to think about the expense. I'd like to try and give a fair share of my inheritance to my sons."  
  


Rowena nodded, "Of course, my lady."  
  


She also added, "I am curious, however. Not many of our status has been allowed to delve into academic roots."  
  


Internally, Rowena gulped the bile rising from her throat. Mind going blank, she wondered at the question and repeated it in her head.  
  


There was never a moment that she had doubted her choices. Throughout the six years on the run, she had one goal: find a cure to her curse.  
  


It hadn't come across to Rowena how much she enjoyed reading about humanity's previous lives. Recounting moments of heated discussions with historians and adventurers that ventured out in the Mediterranean. Meeting a colourful ray of people from different backgrounds. But was there more to her happiness and ambitions to find a cure?  
  


Finally, Rowena answered, "I need to prove myself."  
  


Lady Dido stayed quiet.  
  


She paused and stared at Lady Dido. "I know how it feels to not be taken into granted by your own opinions, and something like this..."  
  


She looked back down to where the tea – which had gone cold – was placed.  
  


"Yes."  
  


Rowena looked up with a surprised expression.  
  


Lady Dido sighed and glanced over to the wall. Hanging on a gold frame was a painting, depicting the Davinier family.  
  


Sat on the chair was Lady Dido herself, who appeared younger in years with a solemn expression on her face. Standing beside her was her husband: John, and her three sons: Charles, John, and William. She had memorized their names during their journey to London and knew them from John's stories.  
  


"Despite our discrimination, I know our sex still degrades us from achieving our goals. I wouldn't have been freed without the help of my husband and uncle.” Lady Dido spoke.  
  


Rowena allowed her to continue.  
  


“Like your father, he and my uncle fought for our rights. We also need to prove that the parts we were born with are not what defines us." Lady Dido explained, a stern and yet solemn look on her. "I have lacked a suitable education for the world of men. But you haven't."  
  


Her heartbeat thumped in her chest as she heard those words.  
  


Lady Dido smiled. "You must be confident in your character and judgment. A man's world is entirely justified by power and confidence. And it is the confidence of one's personality that women need to overthrow the speculation of society."  
  


As she finished, Rowena couldn't help but form a small smile. "Thank you, my lady. I will take your words to heart." She tilted her head, earning a similar smile from her.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

**_1815 - Philae  
  
_ **

She knew it was morning when she felt her sheets grow sticky due to sweat.  
  


The sun was already up high, typical for the Egyptian weather as Rowena exited her cabin. The corset she constantly wore wasn't helping at all, though most days she had decides to disregard the usual layers of her outfit. As she went overboard for breakfast, she carried a sash and belt which carried her most prized possessions: several daggers, a map, and a metal canister filled with water.  
  


Her eyes panned out to her surroundings, spotting the green riverbanks and the yellow desert to the horizon. There were several animals grazing, drinking whilst a flock of birds flew from the palm trees. Rowena tightened her hat onto her head and walked over to two people conversing.  
  


As they heard her footsteps, the younger man turned around and titled his head. "Good morning, Lady Elizabeth."  
  


Rowena smiled kindly to John Davinier and returned the gesture. It took a while to get used to being called by that name: Lady Elizabeth Clarke.  
  


She had applied for the position as one of the head directors as the daughter of Rowena Clarke, knowing well how close him and Rowena were as mentor and pupil. Now, John knew her as his mentor's daughter – meeting the first time at an annual meeting at the British Museum.  
  


The older man, William Bankes, nodded, an object wrapped in brown paper to her. She thanked him and decided to take a bite on the bread and berries. Food was not an issue down in the upper parts of the region they were in – though the heat and the humidity did allow most of their stocks to go off quicker than usual.  
  


As they stood out on the front of the boat, Rowena spoke. "Mr Bankes. How far are we until we reach the island?"  
  


William turned to his side and responded, "I'd say only a couple of hours, my lady." He then looked about, to find John gone. "Where is Davinier?"  
  


"I believe he went to his cabin to continue with his analysis," Rowena said. "And perhaps to escape the sun. He hasn't gotten used to the heat."  
  


William snorted. "After five years? The boy needs to realize the work we'll be doing will be under the deadly sun."  
  


"He's a man of research and reading," She japed. "He hasn't gotten his hands dirty and fingernails chipped."  
  


Rowena spoke the truth. It had taken them a few years to get this far down the Nile River, after years of research and hints from locals about the temple in the river. What they had meant had been a large island situated down the Nile, where speculations of a temple used to be. William had been one of the major archaeologists that wanted to find any more evidence for his colleague: Jean-Francois Champollion, who was currently deciphering a block of ancient text found in the lower part of Egypt.  
  


John had second doubts about joining her and William in the expedition, and perhaps due to the death of his mother. Rowena secretly mourned for the great woman she had met those years ago and wished she had known her longer.  
  


Though despite the worries and mourning, John Davinier decided to join them, he didn't expect the extreme climate that came with it.  
  


William grinned. "You are a very interesting woman, Lady Elizabeth.” He patted her shoulder and walked over to the cabins. “Let's start our descent to the temple."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

A week had passed when they arrived at Philae, and both Rowena and William were internally relieved to find an actual temple there. It had been buried by silt and dried up mud due to the river, covered by greenery and wildlife that turned it into a sort of garden. The whole expedition set up camp near to the site and began excavating.  
  


The temple began to look much more to what they had envisioned by their guesses, and due to sketching skills of John, both Rowena and William had a map imagine into their heads of the locations of places.  
  


In the second week, they had started to unravel parts of the entrance. Under the heat, Rowena slowly chipped away bits of mud and brush away the odd-looking stones until she was met by a shiny spot. Her mind slowed down, and she felt her fingers graze over the small patch.  
  


It was gold. Though engraved onto it were those that were similar to an engraving found on the artefact back at the museum.  
  


Rowena took a breath, and her mouth gaped in astonishment.  
  


The crunch of gravel and dust filled her ears and the pants of breath didn't stop Rowena from studying the text on the pillar.  
  


John's erratic voice spoke, "Lady Elizabeth?"  
  


Rowena turned her head and gestured for him. "...Here, John."  
  


The man walked over and leaned in. Once she turned, she found the shock forming onto his face. Soon, William came over, wiping his hand over his forehead before studying it as well.  
  


"Good gracious..." William exhaled, and held his hand over his heart.  
  


John added, "Do you think?...you think that..."  
  


"Yes."  
  


Rowena eagerly nodded and grinned. "This could be it."  
  


"If you are hinting about the Rosetta Stone…" John widened his eyes and eyed both of them.  
  


Turning, she found William's eyes dance about and a smile rose to his lips. "This might allow us to assist Compollion's work. And decipher the ancient text."  
  


Rowena let go of the pillar and nodded. "Indeed. We will start the full excavation of the pillar tomorrow.” She kept a grin on throughout the rest of the day. “Come on men, let us get to work."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

One night, Rowena wandered around the Temple of Isis alongside John.  
  


She had grown fond of John's present, almost like a family figure in her mind. She knew John held the same platonic love for her, allowing themselves to feel less tense within the small cabins. How she knew was a whole other story, and Rowena decided to wait for John to tell her. It was common to be a bit...distressed with the same people for years, and sometimes relieving them was the best choice.  
  


What Rowena didn’t realise was that her work partner and apprentice were having a full-on love affair until a year ago. At first, it confused her: until she got used to it and never once mentioned it anyone else.  
  


Anyhow, they finished the work of the two obelisks two days ago and were continuing the full excavation of the temple. Their recent findings allowed them to know that the temple was for one of the gods the Ancient Egyptians worshipped: Isis. Almost an underlying worry rose from Rowena's mind at the odd link.  
  


' _The last time I had encountered something related to the goddess was when I died..._ ' She thought during her nightly walk.  
  


As they entered the main room, Rowena held up the lantern in front and gazed over the writings on the pillars. The drawings still had colour on them, preserved by the mud and silt that covered the place. On the back end showed a statue, carved in dark black stone that contrasted the brown and gold walls. As her footsteps echoed alongside Johns, Rowena walked closer to the statue.  
  


It was Isis - head up high with an adorning tall headdress. Her eyes had a lighter stone upon them, which sparkled in the dim light. Though, drawn over the eyes was a familiar symbol. An eye on the right pupil. As she stared closer, she felt a gust of airflow around her neck.  
  


Rowena immediately turned - but only saw darkness. She turned back and gave the statue and odd curious gaze.  
  


It felt almost as if Isis knew she was there.  
  


As she looked over past the statue, she spotted several texts engraved on the back wall. She squinted from the darkness to try and focus on it. Her hand crept down onto her pocket.  
  


Hidden under a pouch, was the coin she had bought those years ago. The same symbol on the statue of Isis.  
  


' _Those men wanted the coin...why did they want it from me?_ ' She twirled it around her fingertips and held it next to the eye. It was almost matching apart from the material it was used.  
  


It grew warm in her touch.  
  


' ** _Patience..._** '  
  


Widening her eyes, she quickly reverted her head to where the voice came from, and yet found no one. She quickly tucked the coin back in her pocket. John was quietly studying one of the pillars and looked at her oddly.  
  


"Something wrong?"  
  


Rowena heard John ask.  
  


"Nothing," Rowena spoke too quickly but turned away. She took a breath and glanced back to the statue. ' _I'm only imagining things._ '  
  


' ** _Learn your past..._** '  
  


Rowena yelped and took a step back as her voice echoed around the room.  
  


That caused John to run to her with a panicked voice. "What's wrong?” Worried eyes searched her. “Are you alright, Lady Elizabeth?"  
  


She turned to him and nodded, hiding her paler face.  
  


"I'm fine." She paused. "It was just an insect, nothing to worry about."  
  


"It's alright," John replied, gesturing for her. "Come on. We should head back."  
  


Nodding once more, she allowed John to exit first.  
  


Following behind him, Rowena could not help but glance across her shoulder. The statue of Isis had not moved, which she knew obviously. However, something in her mind knew too well that she hadn't been hearing those voices from her own mind.  
  


What did the voice mean with being patient and learn her past? Nothing had happened to her apart from her death.  
  


' _I am going insane,_ ' Rowena thought but hid it quietly in the back of her head. For now, she would finish this expedition, and find any means of hints to reverse her condition. She went to bed dreaming of the familiar statue but sensing the voices of chants in an unknown language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the kudos for the past few weeks. I'm glad that many of you are enjoying it and fingers crossed I'll have more time to try and get future chapters uploaded sooner. 
> 
> Hope you are all staying safe at this time of date. :)


	5. Coming to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry and Rowena meet again, introducing Nick to the historian. 
> 
> Back in Cambridge, she meets the young pharaoh for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited: 09/2020]: Currently editing parts 1 and 2 to tidy some things and prepare for parts 3 and 4.

** Larry II  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

His day didn't start so well. He got back to his condo after getting fired from his job, only to find his car by the sidewalk - a metal lock clamped around his tyre. Larry sighed in frustration and scratched the back of his neck, cringing at the sight. He needed his car to drive Nick home.  
  


Instead, he took the public bus. It was an instant regret knowing how traffic was in this part of the city.  
  


Many had escaped the cold by driving and Larry had to agree with it. The snow had settled well and kept most things white layered. He breathed in and continued his journey. Once he arrived at the front of the school, Larry slowed down in confusion. There were no parents about, nor children waiting to be picked up.  
  


He paused for a second until he spotted a familiar figure walking away from the entrance.  
  


"Hey, Mike!" Larry called out.  
  


The man turned and spoke once he saw him. "Hey, Larry," Mike added. "How are you doing?"  
  


"Have you seen Nicky?" Larry asked, hands tucked into his pockets.  
  


Mike hummed and pointed above the building.  
  


"I'm pretty sure he went with Erica." Mike tried to offer a clue. "It was half-day today. Parent Career Day."  
  


Hanging above was a banner, the words **'Parent Career Day'** in bold letters.  
  


Larry felt his heart skip and hid his growing red cheeks as he looked away. He thanked Mike before he left, and then proceeded to take the bus to another part of New York.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

He stood in front of the apartment door, taking a silent breath before pressing the doorbell. It rang for a couple of second before he heard footsteps. The door opened, revealing the familiar face widen their eyes before speaking.  
  


"Hey." Larry waved and curled his lip.  
  


"Hey," Erica spoke softly, a tone of awkwardness lingering behind. "Come on in."  
  


She let him into the apartment, stepping back before shutting the door behind him.  
  


He walked a few steps in front, before asking, "You alright?"  
  


"Yeah...yeah."  
  


Erica's eyes averted away from his but then looked back to his face - waiting for him to say something.  
  


"Why didn't anybody tell me it was Career Day." He questioned.  
  


Eyebrows furrowing, Erica replied: "What do you mean? Nicky said he was gonna tell you."  
  


His mind paused to think and thought back a few days ago. His son came round the other day and never mentioned anything about school news other than what they learnt recently. Nick was not focused on anything, but Larry made sure to keep Nicky up on the subjects that were taught. During that time, there was no word about a parent career day in his mind.  
  


Larry didn't want to think the worse, so instead, he answered, "Oh, okay, I guess he forgot-"  
  


The door by the hallway opened, and Larry saw Don with a mug in his hand. The man's eyes lit up and grinned. Larry turned to him, finding the man greeting him, "There he is! How are you, Larry?"  
  


Replying, Larry stiffly nodded. "Good. How are you doing, Don?"  
  


"Good. Can you believe this weather?" Don spoke aloud, eyeing Erica with a cheery expression. Erica smiled blatantly, too awkward between him and Larry himself.  
  


"Chilly, right? Chilly, chilly." Larry tried to cut the awkward tone.  
  


Don changed the subject to his thanks and glanced down the hall. "Hey, why don't I go tell the little corncob you're here."  
  


"Great. Great, that's great." He said back. "Yeah, thanks."  
  


Don took a quick sip of the drink and kindly kissed Erica on the cheek. His eyes immediately wanted to look somewhere else, anywhere other than his ex-wife and her new man. Larry, of course, didn't feel any jealousy at Don over Erica. Though, the awkwardness between him and the couple still lingered constantly.  
  


Larry glanced over to her and said, "Wow, your fiancé really manages to squeeze a lot onto that belt-"  
  


"Stop it." Erica quickly said bemusedly, but he saw her lips twitch.  
  


Larry raised an eyebrow and replied. "What? What? No, it's like he's...the Batman of stockbrokers."  
  


"Bond Trader." She corrected.  
  


"Bond trader, sorry." He raised his hands.  
  


Erica quickly changed the subject and asked, "How's it going with that virtual-reality driving range that you wanted to open?"  
  


"Getting there, still waiting for the technology to catch up. It's not easy. There are a lot of moving parts." Larry explained, biting his lip.  
  


Erica nodded her head.  
  


"Hey, do you think Nick would like Queens?"  
  


He knew how Erica would react. Once he heard the faint sigh across him, he winced internally. "Oh no, Larry. You didn't get evicted again, did you?"  
  


"I didn't..." He tried to speak. "I didn't get evicted, no...I mean..."  
  


Erica spoke sternly: "Larry listen to me."  
  


Her tone changed from exasperation to clarity. A worried expression growing on her face. "I don't know how much more Nicky can take. Every couple of months, it's a new career, a new apartment..."  
  


Larry quickly answered, "If it wasn't for Nicky, I wouldn't say anything, I would stay out of it."   
  


"It's just, it's too much instability. It's not good for him." Her eyes softened, and he felt the pleading tone reside in her.  
  


He sighed and reassured her. "I'm trying to figure things out right now, okay?"  
  


"I don't think Nicky should stay with you," Erica spoke plainly.  
  


He paused. "What?"  
  


"Just until you get settled-" Erica was about to finish her sentence until a small figure rushed down the hallway.  
  


Nick Daley stopped in front of them, already wrapped up warm with a large duffel bag and hockey stick. Larry's heart quickly warmed up to his son and he forgot about the issue at that moment.  
  


"Hey, dad." Nick grinned toothily.  
  


Larry smiled back and said. "Hey, ready to carve it up?"   
  
  


**~oOo~  
**   
  


"I'm telling you; you tore it up there today! Thinking the NHL is a serious possibility."  
  


After Nick's hockey match, Larry and he walked through Central Park. The hockey match had gone smoothly, and being a proud father made it his day when he watched his son score multiple goals. Apart from the moment, he embarrassed himself by walking over the ice to help Nick up, he thought the whole thing was great.  
  


They slowly descended onto the bridge, overlooking the lake and seeing the skyscrapers in the distance. Talking about Nick and his future plans always made him excited but also daunted Larry. He knew that Nick was just eight, but he wanted what was best for his son. Larry only hoped his self-interests - or lack thereof - didn't stop Nick.  
  


His son, however, somehow felt different from his opinions. "I don't really wanna be a hockey player anymore," Nick stated.  
  


Larry stopped and spoke. "Alright then, what do you want to be?"  
  


"A bond trader." A smile crept up his lips.  
  


Larry echoed back. "Bond trader?"  
  


"Yeah, it's what Don does," Nick explained. "He took me to his office last week."  
  


"That's cool." He nodded, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest.  
  


Nick sighed and looked up at him. "I still like hockey, dad.” He explained, “But bond trading's my fallback."  
  


His mind froze, and a wave of confusion brought Larry to a standstill. ‘ _Where did he learn...?’  
  
_

He held his hand out and spoke, "Wait a minute. You're too young to have a fallback, okay?"  
  


"Mom was talking to Don about all your different schemes-" Nick quickly replied.  
  


"She called them schemes?" Larry raised his eyebrows.  
  


Nick explained, "She said it was time you found a fallback..." His son's sad tone filled his ears. "Are you really moving again?"  
  


He could feel his heart thump under his chest. Larry wanted to wince and look away, to not see the hurt in his son's eyes. He knew that recent years have been shaky, and it took a toll on his relationship with Nick. He had not realised how much _he_ had damaged it.  
  


Larry eventually answered his question. "I don't know..." He trailed but quickly picked up his words. "We'll see… I mean there are some pretty cool places out in Queens."  
  


"Yeah," Nick replied quietly.  
  


"Hey. Hey, Nicky, look at me, man. I wanna tell you something." He placed a hand onto his son's shoulder, gazing into his eyes. "I know that things have been kind of up and down for me lately, and that's been hard for you. But I really feel like my moment's coming."  
  


Nick's expression showed that he did not seem too convinced.  
  


And Larry added. "And when it does, everything's just gonna come together, you know."  
  


"What if you're wrong, and you're just an ordinary guy who should get a job?" Nick replied, who began to walk ahead.  
  


' _Maybe Nick is right_ ,' He bit the inside of his mouth. His entire life had been him constantly trying to make his dreams real. Maybe he should listen to Nick. Maybe he just needed to start small, find a small job and start there instead of using a job as a means of keeping alive and food on the table.  
  


Larry decided then to try and find a job, perhaps visit the jobcentre and compile a CV again. Oh, he was dreading that part of job hunting.  
  


' _But it will help Nicky,_ ' Larry told himself.  
  


"Alright, well...you know what. We'll figure it out, okay?" Larry trailed behind and tried to reassure him. "All right, let's get you back to Mom's."  
  


Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure.  
  


Larry quickly spoke out loud. "Oh! Hey Ro!”  
  


Walking straight towards them was the person herself. Rowen Bates face changed, a small kindled smile on her lips. The woman wore the same coat the first time they met, though now wore a pair of brown fancy shoes that clicked as she walked. Her now loose under a beanie, unlike the intricate braiding.  
  


She first greeted him, "Larry, good afternoon… And this must be your son."  
  


Rowen glanced down to Nicky. At the moment, her eyes softened - an expression that somehow felt familiar to Larry.  
  


He quickly introduced his son and explained: "Oh, Nick this is Rowen. We uh, met here in central park after she kind of dropped her wallet." He gestured to Rowen, and he watched Nick wave and give a small 'hello' back.  
  


Nick gave them an odd look.  
  


Luckily saving themselves, Rowen explained, "He gave it back and your father was kind enough to suggest me a restaurant to go to." She also added, "He also tagged along, and I do admit, the food is pretty good."  
  


He grinned. "See, I told you. New York Style is the best." Mentioning the first meeting, Larry remembered that lunch break with Rowen. He had taken her to his favourite restaurants and he somehow got along with the younger woman.  
  


"You haven't met proper Italian cuisine." Rowen held a small smirk.  
  


Larry quickly realised something. Finding, his wallet, he rummaged to return the payment for the lunch.  
  


However, Rowen held her hand out in stopping gesture.  
  


"Wait, I thought you'd like-"  
  


"No, no, no. That was a treat after giving me some tips living here." She shook her head and forced the wallet back to him. He slowly slipped it back into his pocket.  
  


"You're from England," Nick asked, and Larry was thanking his son internally for changing the subject.  
  


She nodded and replied, "I am." She gave him an amused look. "It's the accent, isn't it?"  
  


"A little bit." Nick quirked a smile, which made Rowen chuckle.  
  


Answering, Rowen glanced over to him before eyeing his son: "Tell you what, I only have the distinctive one Americans know the best. There are many other accents, but perhaps for another rainy-day, young man."  
  


An enigmatic tone echoed into his ears, but he was snapped from her voice as she changed the subject.  
  


"I'll leave you two go ahead,” Rowen smiled sincerely to them. “It's lovely to meet you Nick, and lovely to see you again Larry."  
  


She nodded her head and readjusted her satchel.  
  


"Nice to meet you, Rowen." Nick waved as she began to walk away.  
  


Larry also replied. "See you, Rowen."  
  


The woman was rather kind for her age, unlike the university kids he's bumped into around New York. ' _Maybe it's because she's British, I don't know._ ' He thought to himself.  
  


Nick gave him an odd look before Larry rushed to stop Nick's thoughts going somewhere else. "Okay kid, let's get you back to your mom's." He only thanked his son for not mentioning their encounter with Rowen to Erica.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

** Rowena V  
  
**

**_1948 - Cambridge  
  
_ **

Rowena left her boarding house that morning and cycled down to the department of history and archaeology in the early hours of the morning. She passed several cars and students, wearing their uniform. Some had recognised her and greeted her but many quickly averted their eyes.  
  


Once she arrived at the front entrance, she placed her bicycle in one of the designated parking areas and tied it with a lock. Grabbing her satchel in the front basket, she began her walking through the courtyard and down to her office. She knew her way around here in the back of her hand, knowing where most of the students situated themselves in the day, where they would do research, chat and sometimes do things Rowena didn't want to see.  
  


The department always had that stagnant scent that reminded her of dusty books and stone. Perhaps it was all the artefacts they harboured, and she knew well how much they had. She arrived at the large cloakroom and hung up her coat and hat. Her brown oxford shoes clicked over the wooden floorboards as she walked out and arrived at the laboratory.  
  


She sighed tiredly and placed her satchel on the desk. Her desk was clear, with a small lamp in the corner and small file on the side. Sitting down, Rowena began unpacking her work and busied herself around the lab, looking for her recent findings in a protective case.  
  


Once she was settled at her work, she heard a knock on the door and looked up.  
  


Entering the lab was her colleague - Hector Wilson. He was one of the younger professors in Cambridge, who focused on British history.  
  


He greeted her, "Good morning, Jo."  
  


A quick slam of the door echoed the room, and Rowena continued to concentrate on the object in front of her. Though, she refrained from suddenly standing up, grabbing for the object hidden under the drawer. Her hands shook in place, letting herself count in her head to calm down.  
  


She said aloud, referring to how often he tried to scare her but to no avail. The war had done most of that to her instead. But even then, loud noises never ceased to catch her from running towards shelter.  
  


"You do know that doesn't give an effect to me, Mr Wilson." She chortled.  
  


"I try my best, Mrs Bates." He gave her a cheeky grin. "Now what did I say calling me that, Joanna?"  
  


Leaning back on her chair, she huffed. Her fingers graced over the strands of her hair and tucked the loose bits behind her head. She knew that working from eight in the morning up to eight in the evening was mostly occurring to the older staff - apart from her. Hector would always pester her for overdoing, though she assumed because he cared for her wellbeing.  
  


Another thing was calling each other by their nicknames, something she never did unless it was family. Though of course, she lacked in that area often. But the man had encouraged her to call him by his first name despite only knowing him for a few months.  
  


To make it more difficult: her name still felt a bit unknown to her; and the nickname wasn't sticking well to her memory.  
  


Standing up, she followed the man around to the end of the lab, where his desk was situated. "I'm old-fashioned, Hector.” Rowena asked, “Now, where is the beautiful trio?"  
  


Hector reassured her, referring to the three sarcophagi in the exhibit room. "Still there. It won't get stolen, Jo. I'm impressed that there hasn't been an attempt to steal the sarcophagi."  
  


"Well considering we took it here instead to London; it was a good decision." She smirked back.  
  


She was still proud of the outcome. The expedition was a huge success for her and her team alongside the American team but had taken them weeks on end to persuade the Americans to allow them to research in Cambridge.  
  


The tomb of Ahkmenrah, one of the oldest mummies they have recently found, older than Tutankhamen. Many of the artefacts were kept well intact, and Rowena was eager to compile a good report and book about the research.  
  


They both got into a working atmosphere, the sound of papers shuffling and chips of rocks hitting metal.  
  


Hector cut the silence with a question. "Yeah. How is your little girl? Millicent?"  
  


"Margaret." She corrected.  
  


"Margaret. Like the princess?" He raised a brow.  
  


She huffed. Rowena did not think about that when she named her daughter. "Yes. And to also answer your other question: yes, she is well."  
  


"That's good." Hector hummed.  
  


Rowena tried to continue the conversation by commenting back, "I heard from Katherine that she's already ahead of her class." She felt a sense of pride when she said that.  
  


"Really? Three years old?" He gaped back in disbelief.  
  


"What's wrong with it?" She argued back.  
  


He raised both of his hands. "Nothing! I'm just wondering...considering how you're very invested in your work." Hector paused. "You'll want to bring her to the desolated sandbox of pharaohs and magic once she's able to handle herself."  
  


"I will let her decide what she'd like to do," Rowena stated, a strong will in her tone. She had known eventually the circumstances of her 'condition' and knew well that raising a daughter had complications. At that moment, she was still in constant shock that she could even have someone of her blood to take care of.  
  


She had never thought of it in the past hundred and seventy-two years of her life.  
  


Hector made a sound of agreement. "If I had a child, I'd say that too."  
  


"If she wants to be a dancer or the bloody prime minister, I will support her." She shrugged her shoulders and continued her work. "For now, I am going to sort out the new finds."  
  


"How far are you in? In inspecting them?" He slowly walked over to her desk and placed a hand over the table. She was currently studying several coins, some similar to each other.  
  


With a smile, Rowena replied. "Box twenty-seven. These were found closest to the tablet."  
  


"Well, good luck Joanna." Hector made a face. He wasn't a great fan of his current job - sorting out countless of essays his students have done considering how there wasn't a lot to do during that semester as the majority of their students have left for the holidays. "I'm going to sort out the paperwork."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The evening arrived too soon during the winter and Rowena had stayed in the lab to finish the last artefacts in the box she was currently working with. Hector already left, wanting to leave early for the holidays before the roads could be blocked by the constant snowfall.  
  


She knew that in a few days she would leave as well, and take the train down to London, Kensington. Schools had just finished for Christmas, and she knew Margaret would be waiting for her. Her daughter. Her own flesh and blood. Born with exceedingly difficult circumstances, with dark brown wispy hair and eyes that bore so much like her father - it made Rowena's heartache whenever she thought of her.  
  


Imagining the young bubbly child run into her arms, giggling and babbling to her on what she did that day whilst they have dinner in their small terrace home. There was always a small photograph on her desk of her and Margaret, assuring herself that this was what she was doing work for.  
  


She wasn't lying to Hector that day he had asked her about Margaret. She would follow her daughter's choices if only it was safe for her to do so.  
  


However, her fears always crept back up. She didn't know if her daughter had the condition she possessed. Would she grow older pass her current age? Would she be able to live a normal life with a mother like herself?  
  


Her clouded thoughts didn't help her finish her work. She placed down the artefact in front of her and held her head in hands.  
  


Rowena exhaled a shuddering breath, her eyes shut closed. ' _I regret telling the board that I'm completing all thirty-two boxes_ ,' She thought to herself. As she took a moment to sense her surroundings and the mere feeling of time, Rowena leaned back from her position and stretched.  
  


Spotting the grandfather clock on the wall, she turned to look around the lab. There, she began cleaning her place and packing up for the night. Once it was all done and dusted, she picked up her coat from the cloakroom.  
  


As she rummaged her pockets, she felt the familiar circular object hidden in her pockets and mentally sighed. She was about to put her satchel on...  
  


Suddenly a large sonorous crash.  
  


Rowena's head immediately flicked upwards, and her hands grabbed the gun from her bag. Her body tightened, and she quickly flew towards the side of the door to the corridor. Back leaning against the wooden walls, Rowena concentrated her ears.  
  


There was a faint sound of footsteps and the creaking friction of stone.  
  


Rowena's heart grew cold.  
  


Slowly as she could, she unlocked the door from her lab and poked her head out. To her odds, the corridor was empty, apart from several lamps lighting up the place. Her hands tightened over her weapon and tucked her hair back before exiting.  
  


The echoes of sounds continued further down the hall...where the rest of the artefacts were.  
  


' _Shit,_ ' Rowena cursed and silently breathed. She had suspected a robbery sooner than later, but she wasn't prepared fighting back. However, she would do as much as she could even if it resulted in herself from landing herself a blow to the head.  
  


' _Luckily, I can't exactly die._ ' Rowena joked.  
  


Her shoes didn't help as they continue to click under the floorboards. She took big strides, allowing her left-hand to creep up to her leg. Sensing the dagger strapped onto its holster, she took it by the hand once she arrived at the storeroom. The light wasn't on at all, and despite this: no source of light came from the room.  
  


Rowena frowned. Surely, they would at least use some source of light to find the sarcophagus. With a deep breath, she reached out for the door and unlocked it - her gun already out.  
  


She took a deep breath and spoke boldly, "Whoever you are. Come out with your hands out."  
  


Her eyes glared into the darkness of the storeroom, sensing no movement. At that moment, Rowena stepped through, her heart almost pumping and sensing the heat reach her ears. Head pounding, she took her dagger behind her.  
  


She decided to turn the lights on, hearing the sizzle of electricity light up the place. She squinted to prevent herself from blindness and allowed herself to re-focus. It hadn't seemed that anything was taken. Everything was placed the same. Large aisles of boxes and stone carvings. Rowena took her time and decided to scour down the long corridor.  
  


A large clatter of metal echoed at the end of the large room. Rowena ran towards it, her breath hitching as she kept her gun out in front. Her nostril's flared, adrenaline rushing in her blood. Somehow the person that wanted to play with her was not making it any better for her.  
  


She took a turn, finding herself to where she had last been. But once her eyes laid upon them, she felt something grow numb inside.  
  


In front of her was the sarcophagus...  
  


...The lid was open.  
  


There was no body.  
  


She couldn't imagine it. Staggering back, her hands shook from her worry. Laying by the stone coffin were wrappings, strewn across the floor - almost following a trail.  
  


' _Whoever decided to steal a corpse without the wrappings is a bloody lunatic..._ ' Rowena couldn't panic. Someone had stolen the body of King Ahkmenrah, and she had decided to enter the lion's cage with a handgun and a dagger.  
  


All of a sudden, a voice hissed in pain.  
  


Her mind quickly caused her to rush down the voice. As she ran down to the other end, an open area in the middle of the storeroom - Rowena hissed in pain as she bumped into something.  
  


Or rather someone.  
  


Her eyes stared upwards and found wide brown eyes staring back.  
  


With her mouth open, she shrieked.  
  


"AHH!"  
  


The man screamed back.  
  


"AHH!"  
  


The man stepped back, and his hands slammed onto the table. Scrolls and books fell onto the floor with a clang.  
  


Her hands quickly raised, and she kept her gun pointed at him.  
  


The man only looked curiously at her but kept a solemn stern gaze back.  
  


He wore a ridiculous outfit, something to which Rowena would find in history books or paintings themselves. Adorned in gold and jewels and sequins, the man wore a gold headdress, with a blue and red chest plate, matching with a belt, trousers and sandals.  
  


She quickly scolded herself when all she could mention was how the man wore nothing at the top apart from the odd large necklace over him. The brown tone of his skin.  
  


' _Shut it, Rowena!’_ She scolded herself. _‘This man is currently trespassing!_ '  
  


"Who are you?" Rowena demanded.  
  


The man responded, but he didn't speak English at all - or any language she knew. He titled his head to the side and Rowena glared. Was the man making a fool of himself or her, because Rowena was tired and angry and didn't want to put up with something along the lines of a university student making fun of her?  
  


She then did something out of her thought. As she lowered her gun down, she spoke his name.  
  


"Ahkmenrah."  
  


His eyes flicked to hers, and he nodded.  
  


Rowena's throat hitched.  
  


' _That can't be..._ '  
  


The man said, "Ahkmenrah."  
  


"Ahkmenrah," She stammered back. "This can't be real. You are..."  
  


Rowena wanted to laugh. She couldn't believe this.  
  


A mummy. Alive.  
  


The mummy was _alive_.  
  


' _You're being a hypocrite_.' She told herself. ' _You're practically a walking corpse yourself!’  
  
_

Taking a step forward, Ahkmenrah held his hand out - gesturing to her.  
  


She eyed him cautiously. For a few seconds, Rowena tried to find any hint of the man (corpse) wanting to harm her - but to no avail. Finally, she lowered both her gun and dagger and slid her dagger back to her side holster. He raised a brow, pointing at the dagger.  
  


Rowena explained, "Thousands of years and we still use primordial weapons, your majesty."  
  


He mumbled something, but she still couldn't understand. She decided to walk over to him, keeping an eye on him. The first thing she did was tidy the books and paper Ahkmenrah pushed over.  
  


To her surprise, he followed suit: assisting her to place them back on the desk.  
  


' _At least he's polite.'_ Rowena thought to herself before huffing. She rummaged in one of the filing cabinets and luckily found a pen lying about. She returned to the table, finding Ahkmenrah studying several books, reports from previous finds.  
  


Rowena explained, "Four thousand years old and you're awfully inquisitive for a walking mummy." She paused. "Why am I talking, you can't even understand me."  
  


Glancing across the table, he leaned in once Rowena sat down and began writing on the paper. A century of learning and deciphering hieroglyphics had made it her second writing language. There was not a moment in her life that she had forgotten about the ancient language and thanked herself for keeping it.  
  


Once she finished the last word,  
  


' **My name is Joanna**.'  
  


She turned the page around to show him. With a surprised look, the man looked up at her and a glint in his eyes allowed Rowena to sense a feeling of pride. He then pointed at her pen, and she passed it to him.  
  


He wrote something down, who seemed to have trouble adjusting the weight of the pen. ' _Perhaps years dead does make you forget the most mundane things_ ,' She thought.  
  


' **Hello, Joanna. I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth Kings. Ruler of Egypt.'  
  
**

Rowena snorted in her head. At least the pharaoh had some sort 'pharaoh' ego, or to Rowena's concept, a ruler's persona. However, in the back of her head: she hoped it wasn't the case for Ahkmenrah.  
  


' **How are you alive?** ' She wrote.  
  


He wrote back, ' **My magic tablet brings me to life.** '  
  


Rowena gaped back. The tablet? The tablet that only seemed to look very aesthetically pleasing as a mantlepiece or a piece of wall decoration. ' _The tablet that Hector suggested for me to bring home and have Margaret play with it like a toy._ ' Her body grew rigid and she exhaled. "I'm so glad I didn't follow his idea."  
  


Speaking of the tablet, Rowena stood up and left Ahkmenrah standing there. She rushed down to the end of the corridor, and read each brown box until she found the right one she was searching for. Sitting at her eye level, she took it by her hands and returned to where she left the man.  
  


The box made a thump on the table as Rowena placed it down and opened it.  
  


Sitting in a glass casing - was the tablet itself. Made of pure gold, it almost looked like a beacon than an ornament. She found the pharaoh's eyes gaze in relief.  
  


She took it out, and blew off the layering dust, opening the glass casing as well and allowing his hands to take it. He sighed in relief, muttering a repetition of words in Egyptian. He placed it down and wrote something else down.  
  


' **Thank you for taking care of it, Joanna.** '  
  


She wanted to say something else, though she knew it wasn't the right time. How long had Ahkmenrah been allowed to come back to life? Did he come back to life every night?  
  


Rowena huffed and spoke. "I guess I'll have to teach you our language." She added. "And also stay after work. Because I’m not letting you roam about when I don’t know who you really are.”


	6. The New Night Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie meets with Garet and discusses university life and their new roommate, Rowen Bates.
> 
> Meanwhile, Larry applies for the night guard position at the museum, where a nervous historian gives him a tour of his new job. 
> 
> As for Rowena, tension begins to rise when she doubts her choices to bring Larry into the fold.

** Leslie II  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

Afternoon lectures finished earlier than Leslie anticipated. She was quite glad about it, considering the number of times she wanted to fall asleep through the monotone voice of the lecturer talking about antibiotic resistance. Of course, she didn't find it boring; but with the mix of night shifts at the hospital, Leslie was mostly running on caffeine and adrenaline.  
  


She decided to head home afterwards, but not forgetting to stop by at the library.  
  


The building was one of the oldest ones in New York City. Its Georgian style design was dwarfed by the scale of window-filled skyscrapers and large billboards. The library was a haven for herself and the rest of her friends. She remembered her grandfather always told her as a young child that the library held the most powerful weapons in the world.  
  


"Leslie!" Someone shouted from the top steps.  
  


Someone shouted from the top steps, her eyes lit up at them. Seeing the familiar navy coat and grey hoodie, Leslie waved at Kai and raced up to meet him in the middle. He looked cheery after leaving the library, something Leslie was always confused about the man. Despite the stress and work, Kai's cheery persona never had a pit stop.  
  


Trying to reflect the same grin, she said. "Hey Kai, Where's Garret?" Her head tilted upwards, expecting a figure walk out the revolving doors, but found no familiar face. She frowned.  
  


"Your boyfriend?" He raised an eyebrow and stuck his thumb behind his shoulder. "Still inside finishing work."  
  


Nodding, she bit her teeth and asked. “Is it _that_ bad?”  
  


Kai was about to walk past but then turned to explain, "Oh it is.” He continued, “Four essays in two days, I mean, Professor Heppner is being his usual ass-self." His face morphed into a painful expression, and she couldn't help but whistle out.  
  


Leslie patted his shoulder. "You'll manage."  
  


He asked, "Text later?"  
  


"If I get him out of the dust machine."  
  


"Might be dead by then." Kai joked and waved. "See you, Les!"  
  


"See you, Kai." Leslie took a few moments to see her friend descend before taking a left to walk to his boarding house.  
  


She adjusted her bag and pushed the doors, entering the silent environment. Several familiar faces smiled back at her and she nodded back. When she found the large room with the rows of desks, Leslie quietly lightened her feet and walked down the aisle.  
  


His head was hunched down, headphones on and his arms over the wooden surface. Leslie paused to think before approaching him. Her shadow over loomed the laptop he was currently typing with, and his immediate reaction of annoyance made Garret gaze up.  
  


When she met his eyes, Garret's look softened and he gestured her to the seat opposite the table. As he took his headphones and took a deep breath, Leslie sat down and gave him a sympathetic look.  
  


"Hey," She softly spoke.  
  


Garret quirked his lips, something that made Leslie's heart flutter for a moment. "Hey."  
  


"I heard about your work for Professor Heppner's class." She murmured.  
  


Leaning back, he stretched his arms up, annoying the person behind him before leaning back. "Yeah...it's pretty bad." He waved it off, matched with a reassuring grin. "But don't worry about it, Les. I'll pump through it and I'll be at yours tonight."  
  


She almost forgot about their planned movie night, something they began doing after being officially together. A mixture of cuddles on the sofa and ordering different takeaway cuisine turned into a repeated occurrence. It was something Leslie appreciated, as the school took away so much of her time - relaxing with the people she cared for was a haven for her.  
  


Reaching for his hand, Leslie held it onto her fingertips. His face looked up and his brown eyes looked back at hers. Looking back at him never stopped her heart to flutter at his appearance. She used to be so nervous looking at the man in front of her when she accidentally ran into the wrong class in their first year.  
  


Now: it was not as much, but it was still there. The small butterflies whenever she saw him look at her more than just a pretty face.  
  


"Okay, then. What movie do you want to watch together?" She asked him.  
  


Garret hummed and quietly asked. " _The Mummy_?"  
  


"Again?" She raised an eyebrow.  
  


Garret defencelessly spoke, "What?"  
  


He only got an unimpressed expression from her.  
  


"It's good. Rachel Weiz and Brendan Fraser are so skilled and-" He trailed off once Leslie smirked back. The only reason her boyfriend loved watching _The Mummy_ was a mix of his love of Egyptian History – and perhaps Rachel Weiz.  
  


Leslie shook her head. "Okay. If you say so..."  
  


With his other hand, he covered his mouth to cough. Leslie eyed him with concern, but he reassured her that he was just having some small cold.  
  


Garret spoke, "Is uh...Is your roommate gonna be there?"  
  


At the mention of her, Leslie realised the situation. She couldn't blame herself; it's been only three weeks into the new year and Leslie has constantly forgotten that another living being was in her house. Apart from her cat who rarely made a sound, Leslie never minded the house to be too messy apart from times Garret comes round.  
  


Yesterday, Leslie had gotten back from a night shift - usually finding Rowen already making breakfast or sitting with the newspaper (which was odd considering there was television anyways) on the kitchen island.  
  


Instead, she had found the woman passed out on the sofa, shivering from the cold room. Leslie quickly covered the woman with something warm and rummaged her kitchen to find some painkillers. She learned that Rowen was a very stubborn person and refused to take anything and sleep through it. Leslie tried to persuade her, and at the end triumphed.  
  


A pill, water and a change of clothes later, Rowen took the half-day off from work and slept. She was impressed when Rowen woke up and seemed much better and didn't appear to be too tired from the fever.  
  


A feeling of guilt washed over her, and Leslie had to force a reassuring smile. She remembered something from Rowen saying that she would be working late tonight.  
  


She said, "No. She said she's got some work to do at the museum. I'll let her know you'll be in."  
  


"Good." Garret leaned in, face near to her. He cheekily replied. "It'll be really embarrassing if she finds us in a really uncompromising position."  
  


Leslie rolled her eyes but couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course." She then changed the subject and asked about his work. "So, what's your assignment about?"  
  


He let go of Leslie's palm and turned his laptop around, using his other hand to grab a book from his bag. Pushing it to Leslie's side, she eyed down to find a thick hardback book with decorative golden writing on the front cover.  
  


> **Pharaohs of the** **Old** **Kingdom  
>   
> **
> 
> **_By J. Bates  
>   
> _ **

"A very touchy history about Ahkmenrah and his brother: Kahmunrah. Their history is very vague." He flicked through a certain page and pointed at the clear text for her.  
  


Leslie took her time to read through and agreed. The section about the specific historic figures was small, only lasting a few pages about each of their short reign.  
  


Garret continued "But from the text here, it says about how Ahkmenrah was the youngest of the brothers. But their father Merenkahre chose his youngest as the heir to the throne instead."  
  


She asked, "And?"  
  


"Of course, Kamunrah was furious." He explained. "Ahkmenrah did take the throne for a few years until he was killed." Garret gestured with his fingers.  
  


Leslie raised an eyebrow, "Why the air marks?"  
  


"It's obvious he was probably murdered by his brother or assassinated." He simply answered. "Ahkmenrah died, Kamunrah took the throne and in all honesty, it seemed he didn't last long until someone else took him. His body wasn't found with the rest of his family, assuming their whole line kind of died once they had no heirs."  
  


Leslie silently exhaled. "Wow...that's pretty harsh."  
  


Nodding, he pulled the textbook back and typed something onto his laptop before replying. "I know. I just wish there was more about them here. The internet could only have so much but so much of it follows on about Khufu and his reign."  
  


She wanted to be a bit helpful and wondered, "You could ask Rowen if she's in."  
  


Garret paused to think. "Maybe." He hummed and returned to his work. "Her grandmother discovered it with Fredericks. Pretty sick, right."  
  


Sighing, she stood up. "Why do I date a nerd." She muttered.  
  


"You're going to be a doctor, Les."  
  


She allowed him to continue studying and pecked his cheek. "I'll let you work. Six o'clock alright?"  
  


Garret saluted. "Yes ma'am."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

** Rowena VI  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

It had been a very productive day for Rowena.  
  


The morning consisted of meetings with the board of American Antiquities and the head governors of the museum. The topic of the agenda had revolved about the overall progress and 'unfortunate' decline of funding. It was then that Rowena and McPhee proposed their ideas.  
  


After the meeting, it was lunch with the board, and mingling with associates that rarely knew her status. At first, Rowena was never a socialite as a child - so she never expected to talk to an American woman about risks of another recession to their weekly hobbies. Though years past and her position as the head of her family forced her to become one.  
  


There was the odd doubt in some men's eyes about her, but Rowena stuck her head up high and ignored the consistent stares.  
  


When the lunch was done, Richard and her relaxed from their tensed postures and congratulated each other. Rowena was proud of her friend for making good progress of his work and was excited to start her projects.  
  


"Rebecca." Rowena waved at her wok colleague as she arrived at the main part of the museum. She dropped her bags at her office when the two arrived back from the meetings.  
  


Once she noticed the petite woman, Rebecca's eyes lit up and replied. "Hi, Rowen. How's the project going?"  
  


Rowena stood across the counter and grinned. "Good, good." With an exciting tone, she gushed. "The board's agreed to half of what Richard and I proposed. Guess we will be having some students around to help and get new exciting things which people could learn about."  
  


Her friend's eyes widened, and she exclaimed. "That's great! I'm glad about that."  
  


"You're not worried?" Rowena questioned.  
  


At first, she had thought about applying university students to work for the museum. They would only have a limited amount of knowledge on the industry, and Rowena had thought Rebecca would want someone more qualified and trustworthy.  
  


Even having just hired security a few days ago was tough enough. But Richard and she were pushed to fire the three nightguards due to the replacement. Secretly she was relieved she wasn't the one that informed Cecil Fredricks and his co-workers: Gus and Reginald.  
  


The man said would have glared daggers at her _beyond_ his grave if he had too.  
  


"No, no. Besides." Rebecca shook her head, trying to explain to her of her relief and surprise. "They'll know so much more about their own history. It's all about giving the next generation of knowledge."  
  


A feeling of warmth rose from Rowena's chest and she couldn't help but smile gratefully at her. "Of course."  
  


She adjusted her posture once Rebecca eyed behind her. When she turned, Rowena was startled to find Larry Daley in the museum. Once Larry's eye caught hers, she smiled gently back and caught his tensed expression relax.  
  


Larry stood in front of her and Rebecca, hands in his pockets - and spoke. "Hi, uh. Rowen, nice to see you."  
  


"Nice to see you too, Larry," Rowena answered, she then gestured next to her. "This is Rebecca."  
  


Rebecca still plastered a confused look. She quickly assured her friend that she met Larry before, though never mentioning about the dinner. Once Rebecca relaxed, she held out her hand and the two greeted each other.  
  


"Rebecca Hutman, I'm a docent here at the Museum." She introduced herself.  
  


"Nice to meet you." Larry flashed a nervous grin before turning to the two of them and asked. "I'm here for an interview, with Cecil Fredricks?"  
  


Internally, Rowena was confused for a moment. She asked herself when Richard decided to accept an applicant for the night guard position and why Larry was taking the job. Then the revelation hit her like a bat, and Rowena refrained from gulping too loudly in Rebecca and Larry's proximity.  
  


' _Oh no..._ '  
  


Rowena took deep breaths internally but only flashed a smile once Rebecca cut the awkward silence.  
  


Rebecca moved around the counter and eyed Rowena. "I'm just on my break, actually. I'll show you to his office."  
  


Waving her colleague goodbye, Rowena spotted Larry nervously fiddle with his thumbs.  
  


"Wish me luck." He spoke to her.  
  


Rowena could only say back, "You'll be fine."  
  


However, her mind was completely in a different matter.  
  


The two left down the corridor to the staff department of the building. There was an urge in her, eager to follow them down to the back room - where the security office was.  
  


But every time Rowena encountered the old man he would sneer or give the feeling of distaste just a few metres away from her. It didn't help whenever Gus or Reginald was around as well, who ignored her practically for the past few weeks though appeared to seem she was like a child.  
  


During the afternoon, she stayed at the conservation lab, translating several Latin texts for the Diorama room. She had tried to get her mind off the issue, though Rowena's mind kept flashing at a particular night sixty years ago.  
  


' _You have to plan, Rowena._ ' She scolded herself. ' _You can't just barge into the Egyptian exhibit and let him out. What would Larry say?_ '  
  


Setting her pen down, Rowena felt her head go heavy. Her hands held her forehead as she sighed deeply down to the desk.  
  


When she glanced up, her eyes panned around the large lit room. Hanging above the walls were frames of old newspaper cut-outs and posters. And right on the far back was the one that she couldn't let her eyes averted.   
  


> ' **Ancient King arrives in New York Museum from Egypt**.'  
>   
> 

Rowena quickly looked away, feeling her eyes sting from the sight. ' _Stop it...maybe he got used to living here. Maybe they let him out_.' She thought hopefully.  
  


Though deep down, she knew that it may be the opposite of what she had hoped for.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

** Larry III  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

"Giving him a tour, Cecil?" He heard from behind.  
  


Turning around, he found Rowen again with a solemn expression. He had last seen her a couple of hours ago with the other woman - Rebecca if he recalled. She walked over to them and glanced over at Cecil next to him.  
  


The elderly man had scared him to death just a few moments ago, after giving him a full tour around the whole museum. When he went round, Larry secretly laughed to himself. He could tell why the museum was willing to fire three security guards since there wasn't anything to guard apart from props.  
  


Sure, there were some expensive clothing and objects and artefacts that were hundreds of years old, but most of the museum was filled with wax figurines. Several historical figures jotted the place in which he vaguely knew. He knew some of the animals as well as the former president. But overall, it seemed that the museum was mostly a place to learn rather than to showcase valuable objects.  
  


Larry noticed Cecil change his face into a stern look and replied, "Just letting him know the tricks, Dr Bates.” He then turned Larry and added. "Now, do make sure everything's locked up. There's a lot that goes around here."  
  


The older man gestured his hand out to the corridor and the rest of the room, to which Larry nodded back.  
  


"Even though I don't stay in the evenings, I know from your work that you do a well good job, Cecil.” Rowen's eyes met his and she smiled kindly. "Larry will do just fine."  
  


"Do give him a hand, will you?" Cecil spoke, almost too close to the woman. "I know it's not really your thing, but I think a familiar face could help him adjust."  
  


Larry watched the two interact in confusion and worry. Rowen didn't seem fazed by it though he could tell Rowen didn't want him to see Cecil like this. Maybe he's mad at her or the boss - McPhee - for firing him.  
  


But to his surprise Rowen seemed cool and collected, almost giving him a smirk as she told Cecil.  
  


"I trust him, Cecil." She firmly said and a small tint of warmth lit from Larry's chest.  
  


"Why don't you show him the last exhibit. He hasn't seen the Egyptian one.” He answered back. Immediately, his tone changed, and Cecil turned back to him with a grin. "Well...We'll see. I will see you tonight then Larry. And good evening Miss Bates."  
  


Walking away around the corner, Cecil left him and Rowen in the empty corridor. He peered over to where she was, who continued to stare off. But in a quick instant, she flicked back to him and flashed a smile.  
  


"I'll give you a tour," Rowen spoke and gestured for him to follow.  
  


He walked beside her, easily catching up by her fast strides down the hallway. They passed the Diorama and the Animal Kingdom exhibits until they reached a dark lit room.  
  


Large stone statues were facing down a narrow corridor of pillars. In the back, shone a rather large golden plaque hanging onto the wall. In front was a glass case, holding a stone coffin. Larry had to adjust his eyes when he eyed the drawings engraved around the walls and the coffin.  
  


Whilst he explored, something he found time to in Rowen's tour, he asked her what she specialised in within her job. Rowen gave an answered filled with heartfelt tones.  
  


"I specialise in Egyptology but also Mediterranean Civilizations and the World Wars, sometimes I search up about the Georgian Regency period when I'm peckish. Though what fascinates me is this: ancient civilizations." She gestured over the exhibit.  
  


Larry whistled and rocked the balls of his feet back and forth. "Wow, uh, pretty fancy place."  
  


Moving her hand across the glass, Rowen continued, her head turned to him. "Ahkmenrah...he was brought here in 1952 after the Nile Expedition in 1938. My great aunt was the one that discovered it alongside an American archaeologist."  
  


She turned her head, and his eyes panned over to the golden thing over on the wall.  
  


"His whole tomb was intact when we-I mean they found it. Along with the tablet of Ahkmenrah." She spoke with a little lilt, which Larry ignored.  
  


He blurted out, "Is it?" Larry meant the question to himself, though she quickly knew what he meant and answered back.  
  


"Yes. Real twenty-four-carat gold." She sighed and quirked her lips. "I'm rather surprised actually that it's still intact. A metal like gold tends to need a lot of maintenance."  
  


"What does it say?" Larry asked, intrigued on the object more.  
  


The tablet had nine golden slots, in which gold buttons were placed into them with some symbols on each allotment. It was a beautiful piece of artistry, something you couldn't exactly carry around in broad daylight in New York City. Imagining himself walking around with it in Central Park almost amused him.  
  


At that moment, he was rather surprised at himself. He rarely paid attention to his history classes during his school years and somehow the lump of gold is keeping his interest.  
  


Rowen hummed and told him, "It's a token, from Ahkmenrah's parents, said to grant him the gift of life after death."  
  


"You know it pretty well." He looked over, grinning at the petite woman, who shrugged.  
  


"Spent years reading about it." A concerned look edged Rowen's face. "You didn't tell me you applied."  
  


Furrowing his eyebrows, Larry wasn't sure what Rowen meant. Though a moment later, his eyes widened.  
  


"Applied for...oh!" His voice suddenly quietened, and he sheepishly added. "I uh, got fired."  
  


He forgot that Rowen knew of his little issue with jobs. And yes, he was fired from his latest job which wasn't the greatest thing. He hoped the jobcentre had any special jobs and the last resort had been a placement at the museum.  
  


However, it didn't state to Larry what kind of job it was. To make it worse it had been a night job, the only time he could search up a place for him to find deals to sell his inventions.  
  


The empathy written on Rowen's dace hadn't helped at all.  
  


"I'm sorry." Her voice spoke with sympathy. "You know it's fine if you don't take the job after this."  
  


He shook his head, assuring her: "No! I mean...this for Nicky, you know." He spoke the truth.  
  


Rowen and he left the Egypt exhibit and began sauntering back to the main entrance. Once they got there, there were still several tourists and children around. Larry halted once Rowen turned to face him.  
  


"I understand." She breathed and glanced up to the large clock on the reception desk. "The place is locking up anyways in just two-three hours. You could perhaps go home and get some sleep for a bit."  
  


"So, you'll be staying?" Larry asked, hiding back the desperate tone.  
  


Rowen nodded. "I'll be in my office. I don't usually stay, but I could perhaps work for a few hours and keep you company."  
  


Relief relaxed the tension from his chest as Larry replied. "Okay. So I'll just-"  
  


"Yeah, I think it'll be good. And also, do what Cecil says, Larry." She spoke. "Lock up, might let know the place a bit better."  
  


Larry blinked and nervously laughed. "Wow...okay, you're not actually taking him seriously?"  
  


Humming, Rowen explained. "I've worked in museums most of my life, Larry. There's often a lot of things happening in a big city. Lot's of precious stuff that could be let out, such as this lovely thing."  
  


Her voice seemed too cautious, though perhaps Larry didn't fully understand the importance of the museum yet. It was his first night anyways.  
  


Instead, Larry pretended to take it seriously and reassured Rowen. "I'll take your note. See you later then?"  
  


"See you, Larry." As he walked out, he heard Rowen call out. "Good luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I've currently been taking a break on writing and been reading more on here. 
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be one heck of a ride ;)
> 
> [Edited 09/2020]: Currently tidying some things for parts 1 and 2.


	7. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night for Larry and Rowen happens, and things don't exactly go so well for the duo. Meeting a former president, miniature people, metal statues and a skeletal dinosaur: both experience the strength of the tablet's magic in modern New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Sorry that I keep forgetting to post on here, but here you go. I've decided to keep notes short on here because it's just too much hassle alongside editing. Everything in this chapter should kind of fit the movie with the added parts of Rowena interacting with the museum as well. :)

** Larry IV  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

Once he returned to the museum that evening, he found Cecil, Gus and Reginald waiting for him in the security office.  
  


Cecil gave him some uniform - new and fresh and luckily it fitted him nicely. It was a grey-blue uniform, with matching jacket and trousers. The museum crest and name stitched on the top front and sleeve of his jacket.  
  


His new black shoes squeaked under his footsteps as he followed the three old men to the main entrance, dressed up for the cold. Larry face them, rolling against his heels as Cecil rummaged through his bag.  
  


"Let me see…" Cecil trailed off, but quickly spoke back once his hand took out several items. "Keys, flashlight. You'll wanna strap those to your belt."  
  


"Right." Larry gave them a confused look but didn’t question the older man’s statement.  
  


An odd mysterious look formed onto Cecil's face, as well as Gus and Reginald's as well. That didn’t really ease Larry’s concerns on the expressions and running thoughts. What made it seem as if his flashlight and key were the holy grail of the job?  
  


"It can get a little spooky around here at night..." Cecil emphasized. "So, you might want to put a few lights on."  
  


Nodding, Larry gestured for his flashlight. "All right then,” He said.  
  


The older man handed him the two things, as well as an old roll of paper. It looked so old so Larry could feel it almost crumble on his fingertips. He eyed it with caution before letting his eyes ask Cecil.  
  


Cecil spoke, "The instructions manual."  
  


"Instructions?”  
  


Gus interrupted, stepping close to Larry with a hard gaze. "You start with one, two, three..."  
  


"Four?" Larry butted in, refraining to crack a smirk.  
  


"Are you cracking wise?" Gus snapped back, eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of surprise and anger. "I ought to punch you in the nose, hopscotch."  
  


Reginald calmly answered, "Leave him alone, Gus." The man then turned to Larry. "You've got it covered, right Larry?"  
  


"Yeah, yeah." He replied, and added: "I mean Rowen's in so if I forget some things, I'm sure she'll know."  
  


He silently regretted mentioning Rowen in front of Cecil as he watched Cecil's eyes hardened at the mention of her name. Though, Larry sighed internally when he quickly changed and moved towards Larry.  
  


Cecil's hand rested upon his shoulder, and his blue eyes searched his face. "Larry, do them in order, do them all and do them quickly." The tone of his voice gripped Larry’s ears. "And the most important thing of all to remember. Don't let anything in…or out."  
  


"Out?"  
  


Question revelled around his mind. He already heard two people tell him about the same thing, and that had been to be careful of museum artefacts leaving the premises. What did they mean about that? Is someone going to steal an artefact?  
  


Cecil patted his shoulder before he stepped past him. "Good luck, son."  
  


Gus and Reginald repeated the gesture and his voice trailed quietly, "Night, Gus. Reginald."  
  


As the sound of revolving doors slowed down, Larry watched the trio disappear into the cold night. He stared down at the sheet of paper clenched around his fists. Carefully rolling it out, he could clearly see how many times the three have used it. Most of the ink was beginning to fade, with odd splodges of brown and red stains in the corners.  
  


Larry hoped it wasn't blood on the paper, but the thought almost made him shiver.  
  


"Having fun there?"  
  


Suddenly, he turned around to find Rowen eye him from a few feet away.  
  


"Oh god, you scared me." He exhaled, before asking. "How's work?"  
  


Groaning, Rowen gave him a tired grin. "A nightmare." She added. "I think I'll get it all done tonight and then I'll head home in an hour. Sound's good?"  
  


"Yeah, yeah." Larry brushed the concern from her expression, but he could tell that Rowen felt the nerves. His own, no doubt. "I'll be fine."  
  


' _Of course, I'll be fine_ ,' He said to himself inside. ' _This isn't a dangerous job. We're guarding a museum for crying out loud_. _What’s the worse that could happen?_ ’  
  


"Alright. I'll lock up the conservation department once I'm done." Nodding, she turned down to the corridor, heading to the back of the museum. "Goodnight, Larry.” She smiled at him.  
  


"Night, Rowen," Larry called out, hearing his voice echo and vibrate within the walls of the empty large room he stood.  
  


And so, the night began for him.

**~oOo~**

"Hello? Hello! _Hello…_ "  
  


A voice echoed across the speakers.  
  


"Check! Check. I am Larry...Larry! Larry."  
  


Larry had been sitting around the main entrance for a half an hour - unfortunately, bored out of his mind. The work had been simple. He locked up several exhibits, making sure the 24-carat tablet was secured. Every so often, he eyed the security cameras allotted in several places within the museum and spotted nothing suspicious at all.  
  


Apart from Rowen, the silence was the only thing the museum filled alongside the exhibits. As the level of boredom increased within the short amount of time, he began using the microphone in the front desk.  
  


' _How is this a dangerous job?_ ' Larry questioned to himself and snorted.  
  


Shutting his eyes for a few second, Larry sighed. He hoped the job he applied for was simple, but at least kept his mind rolling. At this moment, his brain was mostly maintaining his consciousness. He’s had mundane jobs before, but not _this_ mundane that he could almost fall off his chair and knock himself out on the floor throughout the whole shift.  
  


‘ _This is for Nick, okay._ ’ He said to himself. ‘ _And for yourself. Remember that, Daley._ ’  
  


He yawned once more before fluttering his lids wide open. Everything seemed ordinary. Larry panned around the room, and checked the main doors to be shut closed, the exhibits still there...  
  


Apart from the dinosaur.  
  


He took a double take and rubbed his eyes.  
  


Taking off from his seat, his legs trudged closer to the dinosaur exhibit. Though to his sight, there wasn't a dinosaur skeleton at all. There was nothing. Only the podium it had once stood with the plaque placed onto the wooden frame.  
  
  


Larry thought, ' _Okay, did I fall asleep or-_ '  
  
  


His eyes wandered upwards as he side-stepped around the podium. Larry's mind was racing, a million thoughts filling his brain. Out of all the things someone was going to steal, it had been the dinosaur out of all the exhibits. Though Larry couldn't comprehend how anyone could have moved the giant bones, let alone do it in silence.  
  


"Cecil?" He called out loudly, shaking his head around to try and spot a camera or a figure hiding behind the bushed.  
  


But nothing moved no made a sound.  
  


He drawled out, shaking off the nerves. "Okay, very funny Cecil!" Larry paused. "What is this, like a David Copperfield thing?"  
  


As he was about to return to his post, and presumably call Cecil for assurance, Larry heard something around the corner. Sounds of water trickling echoed in the empty hallway, as Larry headed towards it. It didn't seem loud enough like a pipe, but enough to cause Larry to fixate his eyes.  
  


Water sprung out of the tap of the water fountain, as it hit the mouth of a tyrannosaurus. Everything stopped suddenly for Larry. Legs glued onto the floor and hands on the side of his body, he felt neither muscle nor mind.  
  


As the water stopped, the dinosaur paused to turn. In a slow pan, its head turned to his direction.  
  


Larry gulped.  
  


There was a dinosaur.  
  


The dinosaur was drinking off the water fountain.  
  


He took a step back, clutching the flashlight in his palms.  
  


Then all sudden, the dinosaur elevated his head, forcing its body to extend to almost the ceiling. A shadow formed onto Larry and the first instinct he could do was this.  
  


Run.  
  


As the floor reverberated from the roars of the dinosaur, Larry screamed. He sprinted as fast as he could, ignoring the crashes of glass and objects falling behind. He didn't care; Larry wanted to get the hell away from the massive monster that was about to rip him apart.  
  


He ran around the hallways before he skidded into an archway and entered the main hall again. Larry flipped his head around and saw nothing, so he jumped around the front desk and crouched.  
  


His chest burnt and his heart pounded. He could still feel the vibrations in his feet as his hands went to grab the telephone. Situated under the shelves, Larry grabbed for it and quickly typed in.  
  


A deafening roar filled the room and Larry shouted.  
  


"Come on. Revolve. Revolve!" He loudly spoke in frustration.  
  


A few seconds too late, someone finally picked up the phone. A light yet bored tone spoke. "Name, please?"  
  


He couldn't hear properly so he crouched into the shelves further. He spotted papers on the countertop fly about onto the floor. Pressing the phone against his ear, Larry paused to think.  
  


He called out. "Cecil...Fredricks!"  
  


"One moment…Connecting."  
  


Finally, a familiar voice faintly spoke. "Hello?"  
  


"Cecil!" Larry answered with relief. "It's Larry Daley!"  
  


"Larry. Yes, how can I help you."   
  


Cecil responded, but it crackled slightly and the sound of - what was that...partying?  
  


"The dinosaur..." Larry exclaimed. "The dinosaur is alive!"  
  


"I'm having a little trouble hearing you, friend," Cecil responded.

  
"Tequila!"  
  


Another shattering scream filled Larry's ears.

  
"The dinosaur's alive!" He panted as he shouted. "What the heck do I do? Tell me what to do!"

  
He could hear several murmurs through the phone as Cecil replied. "Read the instructions. It explains everything."

  
Soon as he mentioned it, Larry looked around in anticipation for the old sheet of paper. The floor was littered with everything. Papers, pamphlets and pens. Once he noticed a ripped brown-tinted sheet, Larry crawled to it and clutched into his chest.

  
He quickly picked up the phone once more.  
  


"Okay, okay I got them!" He replied.  
  


Unrolling the sheet, he noticed what was written to be a list of things to do. Right on the top, highlighted in red was this.  
  


**_Throw the bone at the dinosaur.  
  
_ **

"I'll see you tomorrow."  
  


"Wait! What..." Larry panicked and he quickly shouted. "What bone?"  
  


He shoved the phone out of his hands back onto the shelf and took the rest of his things. Flashlight strapped onto his pocket, keys clicked onto his belt and instructions clenched within his hand. Larry then crawled across to the edge of the desks, spotting where the dead creature had been.  
  


The dinosaur was distracted. It had been staring at the large shining globe.  
  


However, the first thing Larry spotted had been the right thing. Hung up on the wall was a huge horn behind a wooden plaque.  
  


Taking one deep breath beforehand, Larry readied himself and ran. He could sense the tyrannosaurus quickly looking at him as he reached as high as he could, grabbed the horn and turned around. Its large steps made him whimper slightly, as its jaws opened wide.  
  


With no second thoughts, Larry held it out and shut his eyes.  
  


And nothing happened. When he slowly looked and opened his eyelids - he spotted the dinosaur do something neither him nor any mind has imagined.  
  


The tyrannosaurus rex had made a sound, wagging its long tail. Larry didn't understand how the skeleton could even make any sound or come alive.  
  


"Fetch?" Larry spoke with confusion. "Play fetch?"  
  


It nodded.  
  


As Larry turned at an angle, he tossed the horn as far as he could. It luckily bounced along as it disappeared into the hallway. The dinosaur chased it like a dog at the park, a sort of skip or what Larry assumed was happiness.  
  


His shoulders slumped slightly, relieved that he wasn't dead. Though it hadn't stopped him aweing at the sight around him.  
  


Various things, objects that he thought were just statues, began entering the main hallway. A large mammoth roamed the top balcony as several wax statues of different historical events moved around and converse with each other.  
  


"No way…" That was all he could say.  
  


How everything seemed to come to life still reverberated through him as the shock kept him firmed in place.  
  


‘ _Okay, I’m definitely dreaming now…_ ’ Larry pinched himself, but he audibly winced in pain. ‘ _Or not._ ’  
  


Everyone seemed to have settled somewhat, so Larry took that time to look through the rest of the instructions. Most of it had been about locking the place up and making sure none of them had access to real weapons.  
  


However, nothing explained as to what was really happening.  
  


He wandered through the museum, watching members converse to each other. People dressed in robes to fur coats to even almost nothing at all. Larry had to dodge the mob of cavemen spotting him at the middle of the hallways before running up to the first floor. He turned to the right until he was halted by the low sonorous voice next to him.  
  


Standing in front of the wall was a giant stone statue head. The Easter Island head began to talk, mumbling about wanting gum. Larry bit back his nerves when he stood back.  
  


"I have no gum-gum. Sorry." He held his hands out, gesturing that he didn't have any on him. "And my name isn't dum-dum. It's Larry."  
  


The Easter Island head bolted out. "No, your name dum-dum!”  
  


As the statue grew quiet for a moment, Larry could hear a faint sound behind his back.  
  


"Oh, you in trouble dum-dum..." Once the statue spoke, Larry turned.  
  


His eyes panned around and finally spotted it across the large room. A group of howling men with spears and fur spotted him and shouted.  
  


"Shit." Was all could Larry say.  
  


He then tried to look around, find someplace to run to.  
  


The statue laughed as it spoke loudly. "You'd better run-run from Attila the Hun-Hun!"  
  


Larry sprinted the opposite way, carrying his legs as he went. Turn after turn, he found the elevator at the end of the hall and smashed the button as fast as he could. The sounds of the tribe men gotten louder, and he could feel his sweaty palms press against the door.  
  


The elevator finally opened, and he turned to spam the door close. A large muscular man was running at his direction. He gritted his teeth with panic and pleaded for the door to close. As the sliding doors began to move, Larry pushed himself to the far corner. He yelped as a slam of the man's fist hit against metal - until it shut closed and the elevator moved.  
  


He breathed out once more, wiping the sweat off his forehead.   
  


' _This is not what I planned to do!_ ' Larry screamed inside. There was a whirlwind of questions invading his mind. Was this a trick? If the stone head could talk, did this mean everything else came alive too?  
  


Once he got up to the top floor, the door slid open, revealing a quiet exhibit. It was a dimly lit room, apart from the large glass exhibit. A woman, or figure, was pacing back and forth from side to another. As Larry rushed towards the woman, she had noticed his presence.  
  


Brown surprised eyes looked at him, and her mouth opened like a gaping fish.  
  


"What is happening?" Larry waved. "Uh, hey."  
  


Her hands lifted to the side of her waist and onto the glass.  
  


"How are you doing?" He paused. "Are you...?"  
  


The woman didn't respond but pointed below her. In front of the glass were a plaque of several paragraphs and a title. Larry squinted his eyes to try and decipher her name.  
  


"You're Sakagahwahaya?" He spoke slowly, trying his best to pronounce it. Though to no avail, she still gave him a confused look.  
  


He tried again. "You're 'Sakagawaya'?" His voice lit up. "Oh, Sacagawea. You're Sacagawea?"  
  


However, and to no surprise. Sacagawea only tapped onto the glass and held her hand against her ear.  
  


"You can't...? You can't hear me?" He furrowed his eyebrows as he spoke.  
  


Larry took his time to skim read through the names, only to spot two other figurines a couple of meters next to her. They seemed to talk to each other, pointing at either a map or at the fake landscape behind them.  
  


He read aloud, "Who assisted the Lewis and Clark...Right, so that's Lewis and Clark and you're... Right. You seem-- I'm Larry." He then gestured his arms out and across him towards the exhibit. "What's going on? What's...? Do you know what's going on here?"  
  


Just as Sacagawea’s mouth opened wide once more, Larry's ear tingled as he heard a faint cry coming where he left. He widened his eyes and then rushed slowly backwards.  
  


"Uh, Huns...I gotta...go. It's nice to see you!" He rushed out and then took off once more into the museum.  
  
  
  


**~oOo~**

** Rowena VII  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City_   
  
**

When she woke up, Rowena already sensed something was wrong.   
  


Her body ached from the position she sat from; she noticed a slight murmur of sound rumbling outside. Rowena didn't intend to sleep once she had finished her extra hours. Her plan had been simple: check on Larry before sundown, close up the conservation department and then wait for at least an hour in her office just in case something did go wrong.  
  


To her view, Rowena underestimated the outcomes. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, only to quickly grab her belongings and hide them under a drawer. Taking only her keys and phone, she stood up and exited her office - locking it securely.  
  


No one was down the corridor to which she was thankful for, and she began venturing down the hallway quickly. After going down the stairs, she memorized the route to the front main hall and diverted down the main hallway.  
  


She would have gasped so loudly if an _ostrich_ hadn’t sauntered right across her and into the other room.  
  


An ostrich.  
  


Rowena took a double-take, wanting to rub her eyes once more and hoped she was dreaming all of this.  
  


' _This can't be possible. How..._ ' She trailed her thoughts to silence, trying to grasp what was happening around her.  
  


Figures of all possible historical backgrounds walked freely around her, as she twirled about and watched the scenery pass by. There were various people she knew, explorers, founders and nurses. Even people she had seen in newspapers a hundred years back - never realizing she could meet them in the present once more.  
  


She wanted to laugh. Laugh so hard and curse at the gods themselves for making a tablet that could restore this.  
  


"Okay...not only it brings him to life. It brings everything to life then…" Rowena gasped under her breath. "That’s…of course. Of course.”   
  


Though to her, she couldn't hide the underlying grin she had once the feeling got to her. Once she began wandering, she noticed a metal statue - or figure - mumbling in a different language.   
  


Racing towards the man, Rowena yelled in Italian. "Uh…Signore Columbus!"  
  


The man jumped in shocked and turned with his hands on his chest and scroll. "Signora! You scared me."  
  


"Scuse Signore, but I may I disrupt you for a minute." Rowena butted in politely, plastering a kind smile towards the metal man.  
  


He then sighed and responded in Italian. "Alright then. But make it presto. I am working on mi carta geograf." He slapped the metal scroll that was in his hand.  
  


Rowena hummed and replied. "I see, and it's a wonderful…map." She paused and changed the subject. "Since I know you are excellent in orienteering and observation, have you seen a man in a navy suit? With a torch?"  
  


"No! I have not seen any man that you describe of." Christopher Columbus quickly answered.  
  


Rowena’s smile didn’t falter and saw him ponder.  
  


He then hummed and then exclaimed. "But I did see an interesting animal being chased by that large creature!”  
  


"That must be Larry." She looked up to him, and then thanked him with a curt nod. "Grazie, Signore!"  
  


Rowena left Columbus rambling on with his business and walked as fast as she could out into the main hall. The place was a wreck, with papers all over the floor and things appearing to be missing. She eyed the wall on the right to find the large mammoth horn to be missing, as well as several statues.   
  


As she took a step back from her stance to get a clearer view of the top balcony, she felt something touch her back. With a quiet yelp, Rowena flipped around and saw large dark eyes. It neighed at her, almost attempting to nuzzle against her face until she moved back.  
  


"Woah there!"  
  


A loud bold voice came from above.  
  


Her eyes moved upwards to find the person behind it.  
  


"You seem to be in a hurry." Sitting atop of the saddle was a man, wearing a brown army uniform.   
  


She tried to form a few words together, speaking. "I'm sorry, but I need to find a dear friend of mine. The new night guard started today and he's inexperience."  
  


"I'll say!” He exclaimed. “This whole place is running amuck like turkeys hobbling in a field!" He gestured aloud and pointed at the mess.   
  


' _An understatement.'_ Rowena wanted to add.  
  


He slid off his horse and carefully adjusted his belt. Tipping his hat, he introduced himself. "Theodore Roosevelt, 26th president of the United States of America. And you are?"  
  


She refrained her legs to cross and kneel out of habit, instead: bowing her head slightly. "Rowen Bates, one of the curators in the museum, though also a governess of the museum when I am needed." She then hesitated slightly and added. "I must say, it's a pleasure to finally meet you...alive."  
  


Holding her hand out, the former president shook it firmly.  
  


"Ah! Good golly your hands are warmer than I expected." He exclaimed, taking an awkward long time until he pulled back. "The last time I have met another living human being as one such as yourself was meeting Cecil Fredricks himself."  
  


Rowena tried not to show her expression of concern, and refrained herself from narrowing her eyes up to the president. From the tone and look he gave, Theodore Roosevelt didn’t think of Cecil as highly as expected. She wanted to ask more, but she knew there were more important matters to handle.  
  


"I see…Would you be so kind to direct me where the new night guard is?" Rowena wanted to ask more, but she quickly thought what the first thing she wanted to do. "I think we might need to help him."  
  


"Of course, dear. Hop on!” He returned up onto the horse. With his help, Rowena adjusted her position behind and clung tightly.  
  


The president then stated. "Let us go forth, Texas!”  
  
  


**~oOo~**

"So... you’re all alive." Rowena thought allowed.  
  


She hadn't noticed what she said aloud until Theodore - or Teddy - nodded and spoke. "Yes. Brought to life with what we presumed to be the tablet of Ahkmenrah's doing."  
  


‘ _Ahkmenrah…_ ’  
  


She had not heard of that name in years.  
  


Her heart skipped as she whispered out. "Magic."  
  


Teddy agreed. "Exactly. Even as a man of science: one cannot explain the most mysterious doings as such as resurrection."  
  


As they wandered down the hallways and exhibits, she couldn't help but continue to ask the president more questions. How long this had been going on for, what really happened between the times the tablet came here for the first time until she got here?  
  


There were even more pressing questions, one reminding her of the very person that started this all. But every moment Rowena cross her thought to it, guilt grew - so she pressed a different matter.  
  


"Are you the real Theodore Roosevelt, or what the wax statue was deemed to become?" Rowena apologised afterwards. "Sorry if that was rude of me to ask, but I was just...curious."  
  


"I believe I am him, somewhat. But I know of this body's recent history." Teddy explained, a hint of his unsure thoughts escaping his mouth, he eyed her from across his shoulder. "It does not do well to dwell on the past, Rowena Bates. Especially on things beyond death.”  
  


She wanted to snort at the comment, and then froze at the name he called her. No one has called her that in decades. And the last time had been over have a century ago…  
  


Rowena's heart plummeted as she rushed back to say, "Rowen, I prefer Rowen please."  
  


"Of course, my dear." Texas halted in front of an exhibit as Teddy said. "Ah, here we are."  
  


She slipped down the horse and then saw what was happening in front of them. "Thank you, or maybe not..."  
  


Standing still as an iceberg in the Diorama room was Larry - surrounded by thousands of small figurines around him. There were mini ballistae aimed at him, with fire on the ends. She couldn't even imagine where those small figurines found of manage to create fire.   
  


"I'm not a giant, guys. All right?" Larry said frustratingly. "You guys are really little."  
  


She heard a faint voice yell out somewhere within the crowd of Roman soldiers. "We may be small, but our hearts are large...metaphorically speaking."  
  


"Don't take that wrong. I'm saying you're miniatures-"   
  


"Silence!" The voice of a Roman interrupted. "The Roman Empire knows no boundaries!"  
  


"Don't do it son!" Another voice warned.  
  


"Do what?" Larry said. "Octavius…”  
  


The Roman general said loudly. "Unleash hell!"  
  


"Don't!"   
  


Small balls of the size of cotton balls flew across the room. Larry winced slightly as some landed onto his skin. She spotted him trying to dodge them, brushing arrows of the size of toothpicks aiming his face.   
  


Rowena shouted, "Larry! Come on!"  
  


The man finally noticed her and jumped across, waving his arms about in panic. She quickly shut the exhibit with the metal bars once he ran out. Once it was locked, Larry and she looked at each other before following Teddy down the hallway.  
  


The only thing she heard was a faint cry inside. "That's right! You better run, boy!"   
  


They were clear soon enough once they got around the corner, Larry stopped to take a breath - leaning against his knees. She walked over to him and feeling a sense of worry fill her. Taking his arm, she pulled him up to find his eyes quickly relax.  
  


"Thanks." He spoke and tried to catch his breath back.   
  


When he calmed down, she moved away slightly to let him stand straight. He added, "Rowen, I am so glad to see you!”  
  


"I would say the same to you." She returned with a faint tired smile. She then gestured over to his uniform, where there were already some charred bits from the fire. "I'm glad that you're intact."  
  


She noticed Teddy sliding down his horse, heading towards them with a solemn look.  
  


Larry held his hand out, nodding as he said. "Thank you."   
  


"Not at all." Teddy introduced himself to him. "Theodore Roosevelt, of the United States of America at your service."  
  


"I'm Larry Daley the new night guard." He replied, shaking his hand.  
  


"Pleasure to meet you, Lawrence Daley." As his smile faded, a glimmer of mischief held against the president's eyes as he then spoke. "The hunt is afoot."  
  


To her surprise, he began walking away from Texas and them. Rowena glanced over at Larry, who looked even more confused. She gestured her eyes back to Teddy before Larry could begin catching up.  
  


She followed suit, finding herself to walk at the same pace next to Teddy. Larry was on the other side, trying to ask questions.  
  


"Excuse me, Mr President." Larry pried. "Could we ask you something?"  
  


He then paused, causing her and Larry to pull back. Teddy then firmly answered: "Yes, but just one question."  
  


"All right. Okay..." He breathed and Larry gestured. "Why? Is it just like some three wishes kind of deal, or..?"  
  


Teddy widened his eyes and gleamed. "Not at all! Self-reliance a vigorous life. A man must look inward to find his own answers." His voice lowered in volume. "How can I be of help?"  
  


"I don't really know how to put this, and please don't take it the wrong way..." Larry waved his arms around, making Rowena hide her amused look. "But isn't everything in this museum supposed to be, you know...dead?"  
  


She then found the president looking slightly sombre. There was something off when Teddy continued to walk along until he turned to them.   
  


Inside, Rowena's heart was pumping as fast as she could. Even the slightest indication that she knew could mean having to explain to the wax statue how she came to know about it.  
  


' _If Teddy notices, Larry will..._ ' The thought made her nervous, but she kept her facade up along Larry's.  
  


Teddy said. "Follow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mi carta geografica - map  
> grazie - thank you
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Currently tidying some things for parts 1 and 2 before I tackle parts 3 and 4


	8. Tomb Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the desert of ancient beings and sand, Rowena (known as the Lady Emilia Darcy) has been in Cairo for years, trying to find the ancient tomb of Ahkmenrah with a new generation of archaeologists. But when the locals warn them of a curse upon the tomb, Rowena questions her own career that had lasted for over a century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have to be inspired by the prologue of Night at the Museum 3: Secret of the Tomb. Of course, there's a little twist. But you also get to see new faces with familiar names, and also a familiar one...though with a different name.
> 
> I will be trying to update on here more often now. I'm currently writing chapter 19 as of now, and editing from chapter 14: so don't worry, a lot is going to throw out during these next few months. ;)

** Rowena VIII  
  
**

**_1938 - Cairo  
  
_ **

Sun-kissed skin and tan coloured suit, Rowena stood out among the sandy remnants of ancient rubble.  
  


The heat was beating down through the form of beads of sweat on her cheeks as she scoured the area, watching the excavators work. Behind the background were the Pyramids of Giza, proudly showcasing its great stature in front of them. She already visited the ancient wonder several decades ago and was quite glad to see it again at proximity. Though this time, her mind was off at another matter.  
  


Closer to the Sphinx was a secret and hidden burial tomb. Rowena didn't exactly find it purposefully. In fact: it was more of a miracle she had found any information about them.  
  


Her team knew from her that she found it from several scribe papyrus texts of the fourth king of the Fourth Dynasty: Ahkmenrah. However, this was only partially true.  
  


With her fingers, she played with the golden coin attached around her neck. Years of carrying the very thing that saved her had led her to become secretly obsessed about it, and even gave odd visions.  
  


Visions of things that seemed to play out. Sometimes it was watching herself in the third person above in a large view. Almost like a bird. And sometimes it was herself.  
  


Rowena removed those thoughts aside and headed into her tent. She was relieved to find him already working, sitting on a wooden stool by her workbench. As she sauntered across, she leaned down to look.  
  


The young child was heavily focused on the work in front of him, dipping his pen every few moments once he ran out and continued to form the symbols onto the paper.  
  


She then crouched down, allowing her to glance at him at eye level. Bright blue eyes stared at her in surprise before he quickly stood up and bowed.  
  


He nervously spoke. "I'm sorry...I didn't hear you enter, my Lady."  
  


Rowena simply smiled and gestured him back down. "You don't have to address me every single time, dear." She then stood up. "I hold no title that requires every moment of you bowing at me."  
  


The young boy, no older than thirteen, nodded and slowly sat back down. He then eyed the work he had done.  
  


"May I?" She asked him. Once he nodded, she glanced down and read through the hieroglyphics. Rowena then glanced over to the work he was copying and hummed. "Very good, C.J. You're almost getting the hang of it."  
  


C.J made a sound, like an annoying tone, as he spoke. "I just can't get the grammar right."  
  


Whilst C.J continued to work, Rowena walked around to the other table where several teacups and a pot were placed. She poured herself a cup of tea and one for the young boy. As she did so, she explained aloud. "Do you know how long it took for historians to decipher the Ancient Egyptian language?"  
  


She spotted him shake his head slightly.  
  


"Twenty years." Rowena finished as she placed down the teapot and began stirring the sugar in. As she picked the two cups and walked over to him, she continued: "It had taken two rivalling countries to try and decipher _The_ _Rosetta Stone_ until a young man fully recognized the patterns."  
  


He then piped. "Then how did you learn it so quickly?"  
  


Sometimes she forgets how old she looked, referring to her old colleagues as young men. Even as of now, she mistook her words sometimes. Though truthfully, everyone _was_ younger than her, even if no one knew but herself.  
  


Once she passed him his cup, she sat down on another stool and took a sip. C.J was rather tall for his age, and surprisingly almost her height. She might've looked even younger if she was next to C.J let alone sit next to the boy whilst he fidgeted in his seat.  
  


She could tell that he wanted to ask her so many questions but never seemed to form well out into a sentence.  
  


To relieve his nerves, Rowena chuckled as she placed her cup down. "I didn't."  
  


She paused. "I might look young for my age, but it took me years to read, let alone write, hieroglyphics.” Rowena continued, “It's a language we might never be able to find out accurately as possible, but it doesn't stop us from knowing more."  
  


"If Father and you really find it, will it tell us more about them?" C.J asked. "I mean, the pharaoh's tomb."  
  


Rowena nodded. "Definitely. It is the very reason I have been working years here. Maybe they'll have the very thing that could help the problems we have right now."  
  


She cursed at herself for saying that so subtlety, but luckily the boy passed it off. He continued onto his work once the curtains opened wide. Rowena stood up, watching two men striding up to her.  
  


As the figures approached her, she pulled down her cup and spoke, "Ah, Mr Fredericks. Mr Mostafa. Any news of our progress?"  
  


Samuel Fredricks stopped in front of her and curtly nodded. He spoke with a distinctive American accent. He eyed his son by her before speaking. "Well... we're eighty per cent on excavating the east side of the site."  
  


The other man glanced at Samuel before bowing politely back at her. "My Lady, Mister Fredricks speaks well. We have already discovered remnants of similar pottery and fragments."  
  


When Rowena looked over to Samuel, she found him to make a frustrating expression though hiding it carefully. On the other hand, Ahmir Mostafa gave her a doubtful face.  
  


She then spoke, "Mister Mostafa, care to explain what your worry is about-"  
  


"It's utter rubbish, Lady Emilia." Samuel scoffed.  
  


Ahmir butted it with protest, "It is not, as you say, rubbish!"  
  


Rowena had to plant herself boldly as she then cut them both of. "Now gentlemen! What is rubbish and what is not must be spoken in curtesy and not by squabbling." Her eyes then looked over to Ahmir. "Please explain what is needed to be discussed."  
  


"Well..." Ahmir began. "It was already mentioned before the excavation but many of the locals are explaining that maybe...perhaps there might not be a tomb-"  
  


Samuel grunted. "All lies. Both my team and Lady Emilia's have been working years on this." He then slammed his hand onto the table, causing C.J to jump in surprise.  
  


Quickly taking the inkpot before it could leak, Rowena placed it back down and muttered over to the young boy with a stern look. "Go and see if some of the men need some water, C.J"  
  


C.J eyed his father, who nodded before exiting the tent.  
  


Samuel sighed, and wiped his brow. "I'm sorry...I just."  
  


"I know," Rowena answered.  
  


Ahmir then tried to reassure them that perhaps there are still remnants of the tomb or maybe the locals just completely forgot. "I know they might not be a reliable source. But perhaps we must still take some precaution about this. If it does happen-"  
  


"If it does." Samuel piped.  
  


Ahmir sighed, "We must be prepared. The Egyptian Antiquities would want to bargain with Britain and the United States on who gets to keep them."  
  


Rowena hummed in agreement and said nothing. To her mind, Ahmir appeared to look as if he wanted to say more about the matter though decided to stay quiet. Instead, she thanked the men for informing her. They then returned to the blistering weather outside. She watched them glance back at her, catching an apologetic look from Samuel.  
  


Alone in the tent, she let out a deep sigh and placed her hands over the table. C.J's work still littered over hers. She decided to roll it up and keep safely for the boy, hoping he would remember it. As she began preparing her work, she eyed across to find the small jewellery piece - the eye of Horus.  
  


Picking it up, Rowena sighed internally - reminiscing the memories it held much like the gold coin around her neck. She placed it down and finally took a deep breath, taking the pen and dipping it into the inkpot.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

Work continued as usual under the desert sun. The Pyramids stood strongly in the distance, blurred by the heat. Dozens of workers bustled about, picking up stones and removing debris off surfaces.  
  


Sweat was growing under the strands of her hair as she wiped them off her brow. As she brushed the particles of dust off the stone wall, she huffed when she found nothing had changed. Rowena picked up her trowel and continued to carve carefully around.  
  


As the sounds of metal hitting stone mixed with the surroundings of the bustling excavation site, she could still hear footsteps coming towards her. She squinted her eyes to look closer to her work but was then obstructed by a shadow over looming her.  
  


"If it would be so kind to move, that would be grateful," Rowena spoke aloud with sarcasm.  
  


A similar tone replied out, "I'm not sure, it would awful of me to let you bake out here in the sun."  
  


Her eyes lit up, and she turned around, looked up.  
  


Standing in front of her was the very man she hadn't expected to come. Ignoring the ache in her legs, she dropped her trowel and brush and leapt up, pulling his shoulders down at her height.  
  


Robert Daley hugged her tightly back, patting her on the shoulder before grinning.  
  


Letting go, she grinned back and said, "I thought you said you'll only visit after Christmas?"  
  


He replied. "Well, the wife dearest wanted to spend her time here with the children before they go back." Robert then gestured to her. "And also meet their favourite aunt, of course."  
  


As she brushed down the dust and grime, she sighed before following him back up from the hovel she stood in. They walked among workers side by side, letting her ask him many questions and vice versa. She was still in shock that he had come, not only that the man had a family to take care of, he also was at the age of barely able to walk.  
  


Now with an assisted walking stick, Rowena was worried to death whenever he came round.  
  


"You know you shouldn't be wandering around here, Robert.” She eyed him cautiously. “Who knows when there's an uneven surface. It might completely damage your leg-"  
  


He raised a brow, "Worrying as always, Emilia.."  
  


"I worry because I care too much of you and your health."  
  


A quiet breathless laugh escaped Robert’s lips.  
  


She huffed and adjusted her hat. "And perhaps the wrath of your wife."  
  


Robert smirked, "Oh I will never be able to get away from that, Emilia."  
  


It was Rowena's turn to smirk back.  
  


"Now say...how is it fairing?"  
  


He gazed down at her, a genuine wrinkling on his face as he smiled. As they walked slowly around, trying to get across to a high open area, Rowena and he greeted the workers as they passed, speaking their language fluently - though keeping to English as they conversed. A wave of nostalgia hit Rowena, remembering moments like this decades ago - when the two of them had been three.  
  


They arrived at an open area, eyeing Robert closely as he balanced himself with his walking stick. Rowena pointed across to the opposite direction of the tents. Squinting her eyes, she watched several men rolling large stone statue across.  
  


She blew out the strand from her face as she spoke, "Well...we've dug out the east side, and now we're hoping if I could get my inheritance here, perhaps one more season."  
  


He knew quickly what she meant and quirked a brow. "The Metropolitan Museum seems to be having...difficulties with this?"  
  


"What do you think?" Rowena exhaled. "I have one man telling me that there is something here whilst another is saying that perhaps it's all been a lie."  
  


She heard him let out a quiet laugh. "You are the senior excavator here and head historian.” He asked, “What do you think?"  
  


"That something isn't right." She stated.  
  


"About..."  
  


She answered. "There must be a tomb somewhere, but the texts never explicitly indicated of their reign at all or where in the timeline it was. Assuming it was after or before Khufu that is."  
  


While she folded her arms across her torso, she noticed his gaze out to the landscape once more. At that moment, she noticed the newer lines on his forehead, as well as the dark circles under his eyes almost looking hollow. But even then, it was hidden by his bright blue eyes that never stopped to be intrigued.  
  


"I have full belief in you, Emilia. I mean-" Robert softly said, a side-grin forming. "We helped Howard find the first-ever intact mummy ever, why not again?"  
  


Rowena turned next to her when their friend's name escaped her lips; concern appearing on her face she asked: "How is he?"  
  


"He's...ill." He explained. "For some time now he's been currently forced to bed whilst Edward's being taken care of by his household. But Lady Evelyn's mother wants him shipped back to the states as soon as possible... if there is a chance Howard passes away during their stay in Britain."  
  


Rowena flared her nostrils, trying her best to maintain her anger. Years of controlling her emotions had done this, but the mention of someone close to her being hurt by those she thought trusted made her mind heat up.  
  


"Well tell her that I have more rights to keep him there." She snapped. "Howard wouldn't allow this, nor would Evelyn!"  
  


Feeling a hand placed onto her shoulder, she eyed him - a mixture of composure and hidden vexation.  
  


"I know you're angry all this time by Lady Carnarvon." He calmly replied. He sighed and adjusted his hat. "...But consider Howard, Evelyn and Edward's sake, Emilia."  
  


Rowena exhaled once more, wanting to feel the comfort of her dear friend and wrap it around herself. Though, she knew from his own expression, which was a mixture of worry and hope, that there was more to what she had been told. Of course, she understood what her friend was going through.  
  


The two men were not the young boys she met those years ago at Cambridge University. They have gone through thick and thin and showed it in their appearances. It was odd enough to be friends to those decades older than her, though only in appearance. Sometimes they enjoyed joking about it, but it pained her secretly to see them accept it and carry on as if it were ordinary.  
  


Maybe that was why there was a pain in her chest, seeing Robert struggle to even walk every day let alone hearing what Howard was going through...  
  


"Thank you for letting me know, Robert." She tried to lift the corners of lips slightly. "That relieves me from the worry after his recent letter."  
  


He tried to comfort her with his words again, but it did not seem to keep her worries at bay. He said, "They will be alright, Emilia. I assure you."   
  
  


**~oOo~**

With a magnifying glass, she carefully placed it over the surface of papyrus. The text was small, and it didn't help that it was faded due to years of exposure in the sun. She went over a sentence, whilst she transcribed with her free hand.  
  


Whilst Rowena did this, Robert sat on a stool across her, studying intently on a piece of the shard on the palm of his hand. He brushed it gently, allowing the dust particles to fall. Some had blown to her face, so she wiped the dust away until she noticed that there was most dust blowing within the tent.  
  


Quickly, she stood up and right as a figure entered the tent with a panting breath.  
  


Ahmir appeared, amidst the dusty clothes and sweaty face, all she could concentrate on was the panicked expression on his face.  
  


"What's wrong?" She questioned.  
  


"A storm's coming." He panted, explaining. "My lady we need to pack."  
  


Her friend already noticed what was wrong, and began standing up slowly.  
  


Rowena looked at him. "Alright then. Robert, help me." She paused to turn back to the other man, "Where's Samuel, Ahmir?"  
  


"He's directing the site team right now." He replied.  
  


"Thank you. I'll be with you shortly." Once Ahmir left, Rowena couldn't help but curse out loud. "Heaven's sake."  
  


She began placing the delicate papyrus into the folder before encasing it within a glass frame on the bench. Once all the artefacts were packed, she began picking up her pens and brushes until Robert halted her.  
  


"I'm sure we could find it another time, Emilia." He spoke. "But right now, we need to consider your safety-"  
  


A thought crossed Rowena's mind.  
  


"Where's C.J?" She looked up at him with wide eyes and cursed. "Gods, he's still out there!"  
  


Robert nodded. "Go then! I'll get your things up."  
  


In her mind, she thanked Robert for assisting her as much as he could and went to go and find the boy. Putting on her scarf, hat and coat, she covered most of her hair and body before venturing into the growing dusty wind.  
  


As she exited, she was hit by a waft of sand hitting her eyes. Her hands went up, shielding her face as she scoured the vast area of people rushing and running. Many were trying to pack as much as they could, with trucks beginning to load up with people and artefacts. Not one seemed to be the right age and size to Rowena's mind, so she began descending to the main sites.  
  


She apologised after bumping into several workers, with others asking her what to do with several of the prized possessions. With a quick response, Rowena moved on with dire rush - only eager to find one person.  
  


However, it seemed with the number of people running about and the sand in the wind she couldn't see the boy at all. Once she spotted C.J's father, she ran over to him as he began speaking to Ahmir.  
  


She called out loud as she approached them. "C.J! Where are you? Mr Fredricks!"  
  


Samuel noticed her, widened eyes as he shouted, "Lady Emilia, you need to get inside!"  
  


"Your son is out there somewhere-" She was then interrupted.  
  


C.J appeared behind her, going up to his father with hands shielding his eyesight. He asked, "Dad! What's with all the wind!"  
  


"C.J, follow Lady Emilia and get in the truck," Samuel told him.  
  


"But what about-"  
  


"I said go!" Samuel looked at her and added. "Take care of him, for me?"  
  


"I will." Rowena nodded and gestured for his son. "Come on C.J."  
  


Holding his hand, they weaved through the crowds and crates. The trucks were on the far outskirts of the camp, mainly out on the makeshift road they had. In Rowena's mind, it would take a while to get everyone out of here.  
  


"But what about my father?" C.J asked worriedly.  
  


She continued to walk and replied, "I'm going to help him afterwards." She let go at the same time, trying to use both hands to shield her eyes from the itchy sand scraping her eyelids.  
  


Suddenly, she heard the sounds of rocks crumbling.  
  


"AHH!"  
  


Rowena turned, only to see in bare seconds of him falling into darkness.  
  


"C.J!"  
  


She screamed, sprinting to the edge of the hole. Her eyes quickly panned around, trying to find at least a body, but the rumble and sand began to lift upwards.  
  


Rowena's heart was beating so fast as she tried to lean down, urging her mind that he was alive.  
  


But then she heard nothing. Her mind paused.  
  


A coughed echoed under her.  
  


She scrambled to her knees, sighing in relief as she found C.J trying to stand up. Rowena shouted, "C.J! Are you alright?"  
  


"I'm fine!"  
  


Her heart slowed down afterwards.  
  


She then heard him call back, "I can't get out!"  
  


"Bollocks...Fredricks!" Rowena shouted behind her, trying to get the man's attention.  
  


Once he turned back to her with a quick response, he stopped.  
  


"Fredricks...Get a ladder! Quickly!" She ordered.  
  


Minutes later, Samuel and Ahmir appeared, ladder prepared. She stepped out of the way, watching Samuel lower the ladder down by the edge of the hole. Once she heard the thump of the bottom hit the surface, she watched him clamber down and she followed suit.  
  


She wiped off the dust on her palms with her trousers, looking back up in a moment of awe.  
  


They found it.  
  


Or more likely, C.J did.  
  


It was a long tall room, stretching across wide as well as deep. Some light entered the tomb, revealing the statues and walls painted in blues, greens and reds. Golden statues lined the columns, making light reflect against the surface and engulfing the room with their size. At the end of the chamber was a separate podium, three stone casing on either side.  
  


Rowena panned her head around, overwhelmed by the beauty she encountered. During her long life, she had come across so many things, from large events in history to even learning a new talent. Nothing would compare to discovering the largest and most intact tomb of all archaeological history. Years of finding inscriptions, paintings, carvings and remnants of the ancient civilization led her to this.  
  


A real person that has lived throughout it. A king no doubt.  
  


She rushed over to the young boy quickly, brushing away his shoulders. Her hands cupped his face, widened eyes. Rowena asked, "Are you alright?"  
  


"I'm fine, my lady." He nodded, turning around. "Look..."  
  


Right in front of her was it.  
  


Three sarcophagi in front of them. They still looked brand new despite years underneath the sun. On the wall hung a golden plague, more like a tablet.  
  


"My word..." She breathed.  
  


Letting go of C.J, she watched Samuel lift his son up to the air in a flurry of rejoice. As their laughs echoed, all Rowena could hear were strange murmurs in her ears.  
  


The different voice filled her mind.  
  


' ** _Turn back_** _...'  
  
_

She began to walk over, hearing her boots crunch under the sand.  
  


"Yes! After fifteen years of searching for Ahkmenrah's tomb, and my son happens to fall right into it!"  
  


"This is amazing." She murmured under breath. "If Robert could see this..."  
  


Samuel studied the place, brushing his hands over the column with surprised eyes; it was like seeing a boy open his Christmas present - only this was a prize longed due.  
  


' ** _Turn back._** '  
  


Rowena was halted in her thoughts when she heard a voice.  
  


Ahmir jogged towards her, distressed. "My Lady, the storm is almost upon us." He paused. "We might not have time."  
  


She was about to respond until Samuel interrupted her.  
  


"Then we better hurry." He looked at Ahmir as he ordered, "Start loading the trucks."  
  


Rowena glanced at him, "Fredricks."  
  


"This is our chance. After years and years." Samuel exclaimed. As he continued trying to reason with her, all three didn't notice where C.J had gone.  
  


Until she heard a large crash behind them and muffled cry. A man grabbed the boy immediately by his shirt, pinning him against the column.  
  


Rowena shouted back in Arabic, "Hey! Stop that!"  
  


"Hey! Get away from my son!" Samuel rushed over and yanked the ranting man off C.J.  
  


' ** _It is not your time..._** '  
  


Ignoring the voice, she stomped over with Ahmir to the distressed man. His eyes were so wide that he seemed to be possessed. He began to mutter words, only some making sense to Rowena's knowledge.  
  


He spoke in Arabic: "We must leave this place immediately."  
  


"He says we must leave this place immediately." Ahmir translated.  
  


"If anyone disturbs this tomb."  
  


"If anyone disturbs this tomb." Ahmir continued.  
  


The man then stared at her, making her chest tighten. He answered. "The end will come."  
  


Rowena's heart grew cold.  
  


' ** _The end will come..._** '  
  


"The end will come." Ahmir slowly translated back.  
  


In a moment of silence, all five people looked at each other. She waited on how Samuel will react to this. Even for her, she was mixed with thoughts - fighting herself what to do. As she twiddled with her necklace, she thought about the vision.  
  


The vision of finally finding this tomb after years of research and work.  
  


And now the voice was telling her to bury their work. ' _But if the locals did suggest..._ ' Rowena thought.  
  


Samuel responded, "We load the trucks."  
  


Gaping, she called out. "Mr Fredricks."  
  


However, Samuel ignored her and continued to head around, touching the tablet on the wall.  
  


"Get everything into the truck." He ordered loudly.  
  


As she stood, watching men begin moving everything out of the tomb, Rowena couldn't help but stare at the very thing. The tablet was giving her an odd feeling in her chest. She felt sick to the stomach.  
  


This was wrong.  
  


Adjusting his goggles, Samuel whispered to himself as he pulled out the tablet from the wall. "This could be revolutionary."  
  


But as he tried to tug it out, it didn't budge. He continued to pull it on the edges until frustration got the best of him. Panic rose in Rowena, though before she could stop him, Samuel had done it. Ripped from the wall, a part of the tablet broke from the main piece, she internally cringed of the damage caused and wanted to angrily tell the man for not caring for it.  
  


However, all she could do was stay silent.  
  


They arrived back up the surface, the storm already arrived. She and C.J huddled together, walking with Samuel towards the trucks. She told C.J to wait for a bit, allowing her to talk to his father.  
  


She tugged his arm and shouted back. "Fredericks...Samuel.” Rowena breathed. “If that man thinks there may be a curse-"  
  


He laughed in disbelief. "Now you believe in that? Come on Emilia. The world wants to see this! We could be famous. _You_ could be famous again."  
  


She stared at him in hidden disapproval. But something deep within her felt as if she wanted it. Did she miss it? The fame and the thrill of discovering things again?  
  


And then the voice in her head still rung in her mind. It told her to stop, to leave the tomb intact and never go back again. But why? Why did it tell her not to?  
  


The end will come.  
  


"But they warned us, Samuel." Rowena shook her head. "I don't agree with this. But we've been here for years and it would a loss to not show this."  
  


As Samuel went to help load, he left her and C.J standing in the middle of the fiasco. Ushering themselves towards transport, Rowena couldn't help but still think of what they had done.  
  


It didn't feel right.  
  


"Do you believe what they say, my Lady?"  
  


C.J cut her off from her dwelling thoughts and eyed up to her. "That they might curse us?" He asked.  
  


She paused, only to simply reply. "I'm not sure, C.J.” Rowena could feel the golden coin warm under her shirt as she looked at him. “But I don't think they're lying to us."   
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry V  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

"You've been in there for fifty-four years," Teddy boldly spoke. "Not tonight, pharaoh."  
  


It was alright to say that for Larry, watching a stone sarcophagus shake and vibrate inside a glass case would have to be the creepiest thing he had seen tonight. It was even more terrifying to even acknowledge the fact that inside the coffin was a real dead person. Not a statue made of wax or any material - it was a real person.  
  


With bones and tissue and muscle and blood, wrapped in a bunch of cloth and placed inside a coffin, it came alive every night. Screaming and crying, demanding to be let out.  
  


Larry swallowed, pushing back the bile that rose from his throat. He couldn't help but glance away, it was too much for him. But when he spotted Rowen, he was even more surprised to find her bearing it well.  
  


Or seemed to be bearing it well enough.  
  


Her whole body seemed rigid, standing too still. He noticed that her hands were clenched tightly, almost growing white to his sight-  
  


"Say, Rowen, why don't you seem..." He then answered. "I don't know…shocked?"  
  


Rowen looked up to him with raised eyebrows. "You think I hadn't suspected this?" Her voice raised slightly. "I had my fair share of panic when a bloody metal statue started shouting at me in Italian." Regret formed in her face and she sighed.  
  


He could only reply, "Sorry."  
  


After a few moments of silence, Rowen nodded. "Apology accepted." She began walking away from the Egyptian exhibit. "Now, let's go."  
  


"Where are we going?" He asked.  
  


She stopped in her tracks, letting Teddy up ahead continue walking.  
  


"I'm not hearing someone being tortured in their own death bed," Rowen explained, a disapproving look on her. "I'm going to help you out, Larry."  
  


He then paused, finally able to explain. "Hey, uh... Rowen."  
  


"What?"  
  


"Only one night, okay." He told her. "After this, I don't think I'll come back."  
  


He saw Rowen think for a moment, before nodding. "...Okay." She added. "Just tonight."  
  


Glad that they agreed, they followed Teddy around, ready to fix the nightmare they have entered into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things for parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	9. Brushing Up Your History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first night, Larry is persuaded to work another night once more by Rowena and Nick. Though due to the wreck they had made, and a ripped sheet of instructions: Larry decides to take matters into his own hands and research a bit about the people who live in the museum.
> 
> During this time, Rowena meets a familiar face once more from New Years. And awkwardness occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Just wanted to say thank you with all the kudos, it really means a lot to me that you're enjoying what I'm writing. I really love writing this story, with the dynamic of the characters and a lot of the ancient Egyptian lore I'll try and embed. 
> 
> Please bear in mind that I am currently in the process of editing further chapters, and editing is really a pain in the bum sometimes. If there are some mistakes, please don't hesitate to comment below on the parts so I can fix them. Hope you have a great day/night! :)

** Larry VI  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

Larry knew the word tired could not describe the truth as he walked into the main hall alongside Rowen and Teddy.  
  


He was exhausted, eager to sense his legs give in and let him fall against a bench on the way home. He wondered how could still be awake at this time already, though it might still be because of the shock and adrenaline he filled himself up after last night.  
  


Teddy kept talking, mentioning about what would happen if the museum exhibits went outside after sunrise. Both Rowen and Larry feel silence on the outcome and didn't further speak on the matter. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to experience that, or anything like this at all.  
  


Larry fell back, and spoke, "Actually, I gotta be honest…” He admitted: “I don't think I'm coming back-"  
  


Teddy turned around with a cry, "What? You've only just begun!”  
  


Inhaling through his teeth, he slowly began, "Yeah, well… this is not exactly what I-"  
  


"-Lawrence?"  
  


Larry was stopped by the President, a hand raised in front of him.  
  


He responded, "Yeah?"  
  


"What did you do before you took this post?" Teddy questioned, hinting an ordering tone within his voice.  
  


"Well, I've done a lot of different things." Larry spoke awkwardly, "I invented this thing called the Snapper."  
  


"Did you give up on that as well?"  
  


He stuttered, trying to form an answer back: "N-no, I just hit a few roadblocks.” Larry continued, “You might have heard of The Clapper-"  
  


"-Lawrence."  
  


Larry quickly said, "Yes, sir?"  
  


Teddy took a deep breath and then began: "Some men are born great. Others have greatness thrust upon them."  
  


As the former president saddled up to his horse, Larry eyed across to Rowen. She flashed him a side smile before he noticed her gesture back to Teddy. The words the president had said seemed to embed into him, somehow sensing a churning in his stomach as he found the president's eyes staring down at him.  
  


Teddy then spoke, "For you, _this_ is that very moment."  
  


Larry tried to smile but felt nothing come out.  
  


Teddy froze, and Larry assumed he had turned back-  
  


"Bully." He screamed. "Got you, both!"  
  


His heart skipped a beat as he grunted in surprise. Internally, he wanted to sigh in a mixture of frustration and tiredness as the echoes of Teddy's laughter filled his ears.  
  


Raising his hands, Larry replied, "Yeah. You got me."  
  


The president unsheathed his sword, nodding towards Rowen.  
  


He spoke to her, "Talk to him, Rowena. I feel that you know what it means for us exhibits to be cooped up in here."  
  


There was a silent message exchanged between the museum curator and the wax model of the president which Larry couldn’t understand. Maybe it was something he hadn’t come across as of yet, but with the sombre expression Teddy wore and Rowen’s blank look – it didn’t look entirely good.  
  


"Perhaps about being inside the museum. Though, I am not sure about that, sir." Rowen simply answered, pursing her lips. "I'm still trying to get my head around this all, honestly.”  
  


"You'll get used to it, my lady," Teddy said.  
  


Rowen’s lips twitched slightly in the corner of his eye. He wondered if she found it amusing that the president called her by the old-fashioned title.  
  


As Larry saw him raise his sword, he hoped that he would move for a few seconds.  
  


But once the ray of sun met the president's moustache, Theodore Roosevelt barely moved a muscle. The president returned to a wax statue, without any magical puffs of smoke or glimmer of light.  
  


' _Huh, I guess that's how it works_ ,' Larry thought.  
  


With a deep breath, he decided to turn around. It was perhaps the time to do a last-minute round and make sure the exhibits returned to their places. He heard the stomping of feet, finding Rexy (the name he decided to dub the dinosaur as) stepping back into the right position. For another few seconds, Rexy fell back to an exhibit.  
  


"Say hello to your little friend!”  
  


Larry turned, wishing the voice was in his head. Unfortunately for him, he finally saw the small figurine on top of the reception desk. He strode up and plucked the cowboy from his waistcoat. Larry sighed and asked, "What are you doing?"  
  


Jedediah squirmed and moved, but to no avail. He cried, "Put me down! I don't like to be manhandled."  
  


Larry spoke back, "Just...calm down, Jed."  
  


"It doesn't feel good!" Jedediah paused, exhaling a deep breath. "It makes me feel small and powerless!”  
  


Raising an eyebrow, he placed the cowboy down. "You done?"  
  


"I'm gonna shoot you in your dang eye. In your dadgum eye." Jedediah squinted his eyes, pulling up his gun.  
  


Larry was prepared and lifted his hand from his face. But as Jedediah pressed the trigger, nothing came out. It was there that he soon realised where Rowen had been. She gave Larry a raised eyebrow, folding her arms as she stood next to him.  
  


"Yeah, keep shooting. Nothing's gonna happen." Larry shook his head, but then added. "Jedediah, meet Rowen. Rowen..."  
  


Jedediah eyed Rowen closely, yet continued his monologue, "Now you know my shame. Jedediah's important rage…”  
  


Another attempted shot, and Larry sighed once more. "The guns don't work."  
  


"This ain't over!" Jedediah sneered, "You ain't seen the last of me.”  
  


Putting the gun back on his holster, the tiny cowboy tipped his hat back him before jumping down from the desk and running back to the Diorama room. Larry wondered if he could even make it to the Diorama on time, but he slumped his shoulders instead and turned across to his friend.  
  


He gave her a look, almost pleading back with his eyes.  
  


"This is not worth one fifty an hour." Larry groaned and then began. "Look, thanks for helping me out anyways, Rowen."  
  


Rowen stepped back, gesturing around her. "No, no. It's alright Larry." She paused. "Thank you for helping me clean the place."  
  


He suppressed the guilt as he continued, "And what I said before. I don't think I'm coming back."  
  


"I see." Rowen nodded her head, though she paused. "Just as Teddy said: consider it. It would be wonderful to have someone like you helping out."  
  


"I know-"  
  


A worried look washed over her face. "Larry. The more people knowing about all of this." Rowen’s lips thinned. "I'm worried that someone might take advantage of it."  
  


His chest heaved at the thought, understanding well some several consequences of this. Even if it had been just one night, there was an odd sense in him: to feel understanding of the exhibits. Even if the first exhibit wanted him as dinner. Perhaps it was just him being tired and still shocked about all of this.  
  


However, Larry still followed his head – but keeping his heart on his sleeve when he reassured Rowen. "I'll think about it, okay."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Pushing the revolving doors, he exited the front of the museum greeted by the sun's light attacking his eyes. He paused to adjust his sight, only to notice two familiar figures walking past him.  
  


His son was wrapped up tightly in a puffy jacket, carrying his bag next to Don.  
  


The moment he did see them, his heart warmed at the sight of his son walking over. It however then skipped when he saw Nick grin at Don after something he said. Larry’s thoughts faltered, but he was then brought back to reality when he heard a voice call out.  
  


"Dad?"  
  


Larry waved towards Nick, forming a smile. "Hey! Hey, buddy." He then glanced over to Don and asked. "What are you guys doing here?"  
  


"Oh, Erica had to be in court early, so I'm taking Mr Big Stuff here to school," Don explained, flashing a smile. "But he wanted to swing by, see you in the new job."  
  


Nick commented, "It's so awesome that you work here." He looked down to find his son grinning.  
  


Guilt entered Larry's stomach.  
  


The very reason he even applied for the night guard position was the very person in front of him. Nick was always the first thing in Larry's mind whenever he searched for a new job or a new place to stay. He hoped that the museum would have been the only mundane job that kept him at bay without the irritation of wanting something better.  
  


However, with everything that happened last night, Larry was definite to quit - shoving the leftovers of the instructions, flashlight and keys to Cecil once the three previous night guards arrived.  
  


And then Nick appeared, and Larry couldn't help but sense a tug at his heartstrings.  
  


"Hey Niko, you wanna take a little look-a-doo inside?" Don suggested an expression of naivety on him. "Maybe your dad will give you a VIP tour."  
  


Finally, Larry chose his decision.  
  


"You know what? We're pretty slammed this morning." He then placed a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Yeah, but Nicky, I promise I'll show around soon, okay? Deal?"  
  


Nick's lips formed a smile, letting his eyes shine up to him. "Deal."  
  


"All right." Larry nodded, letting his shoulders relax.  
  


Once Don began to walk away, Nick waved back: "Bye Dad."  
  


"Bye." He spoke, repaying him with a gesture.  
  


"Love you."  
  


His heart swelled when he heard those words. He said lastly, "Love you too buddy."  
  


He let the two walk down the street, disappearing around the block after a few minutes. Once they were gone, Larry stared out - Central Park on his sight. He bit his lip and fought against his mind. He knew what he to do and began to retrace his steps back into the building behind him.  
  


Entering the museum, he noticed Cecil already in his uniform, watching several visitors eyeing the large tyrannosaurus Rex in awe. Larry stood by the front doors, letting the visitors disperse down the hallway until he approached him.  
  


Soon as Cecil began sauntering away, Larry took the opportunity.  
  


"Hey, Cecil." He called out. Cecil immediately turned around a confused expression. Larry then began, "So I was thinking maybe I'll give it one more night."  
  


The older man's eyes lit up, and Cecil clapped his hands, "That's good. Wonderful."  
  


"Yeah, about that." He trailed off, asking him: "Do you have a spare copy of that manual?"  
  


"I'm afraid I don't Larry." Cecil shook his head, but then suggested, "Why don't you make your own. Do some research and brush up on a bit of your history."  
  


"Right." Larry nodded. As he thanked Cecil, he began to walk out of the museum.  
  


Though, a voice called out to him - or what Larry assumed directly to him. Turning to the voice, Larry found a man in gesturing in front of him. Dressed in a dress shirt, bow tie and tweed blazer: Larry could only interpret two things. Either a curator of the museum, like Rowen, or the director: who was known as McPhee to Rowen's conversations.  
  


He pointed at Larry and spoke rudely: "You. Nightguard, here now."  
  


Walking over to the curator, Larry glanced up to Teddy for a few moments.  
  


"What's up?" Larry asked.  
  


" _What's up_?" McPhee mimicked in a sarcastic tone. His face morphed into an expression which Larry mentally wanted to cringe and laugh at the same time. "Oh, well, take a walk with me and I'll show you, 'Mister what's up'."  
  


McPhee guided him into the Diorama room and stopped pointing in the wild west section of the exhibit, a hand on hip. Larry got closer, standing next to the man. He panned about, unsure to what really McPhee wanted him to see.  
  


"So, would you kindly do me a favour of explaining this?" The director pointed his finger over the right side of the exhibit.  
  


In front of him was the small-scaled town, with several figurines doing their daily businesses. But what Larry's gaze could not stop staring had been the two figures next to each other.  
  


Jedediah and Octavius - in a very odd situation.  
  


He began slowly, "Okay. I'm guessing...and I'm just spitballing here,” Larry said, “But it looks like that Roman dude got cocky and climbed over into the Wild West. Got caught and put him in the stockade."  
  


Finishing his sentence, he heard McPhee chuckle softly, before cackling. Larry leaned back and stopped himself from staring.  
  


"Let's all laugh at me, the comedy night guard." His laughter died down, and McPhee glared back. "No is the answer. I wasn't laughing, pretending to laugh if you want..."  
  


"Alright." Larry nodded. He didn't really want to anger the director any further, so after his 'scolding', McPhee set him free and wandered back around the museum. Hoping to find the exact person he needed to see.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Wounding back to the front entrance, he tried to find Rowen once more and tell her the news. But after a round-up around the museum and asking the guards, Larry had no luck.  
  


Instead, he noticed Rebecca - Rowen's co-worker - guiding a group of children around. She seemed to be teaching, telling a lot of interesting things to them as she pointed at the exhibits. They had passed several of the ones he met last night. Glaring as the monkey with anger.  
  


' _Capuchin or not, you are still a little shit,'_ Larry said to himself but rushed away before anyone could see him flaring at a wax figure - or even hear him.  
  


He arrived at the American history exhibit and began listening to Rebecca's voice discussing Sacagawea until he furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his hand up.  
  


Rebecca trailed off, noticing him within the background and asked, "Yes, Mr Daley?"  
  


He lowered his arm down and questioned back: "Was she deaf?"  
  


"Was...she deaf?" Rebecca's face morphed into an expression of pure confusion. "No, she was not. But-"  
  


"Yeah...because she does seem a little bit sort of unresponsive," Larry replied.  
  


"That's because she's a statue." Rebecca carefully answered, and then changed her tone as she spoke to the children. "Kids, could you give me one sec?"  
  


Larry gestured, "Yeah, go check her out-"  
  


The group ogled the native American woman, with some eyeing the Civil war soldiers as Rebecca approached him. Larry quickly refrained himself, eyeing her with a calm and collected facade until she gave back a questioning face.  
  


"What are you doing?" She asked, widened eyes staring back at him.  
  


He then tried to form an explanation. "I'm going to be here every night. I wanted to learn a little bit more about what I'm guarding." Larry then suggested, "Actually, I've got a bunch of questions. Maybe when you have a break, could I buy you a cup of coffee?"  
  


He mentally kicked himself in the head. He hoped he hadn't turned red just then and now.  
  


"A cup of coffee?"  
  


"Yeah...I mean: just purely a, you know." He stuttered, "...colleague-to-colleague, information-download sort of coffee."  
  


Larry was prepared for her to turn down the offer. Though to his surprise, Rebecca simply nodded.  
  


"I finish in twenty minutes." A small smile escaped her lips. "I'll meet you outside."  
  


"Thank you." That was what he could say.  
  


Rebecca responded, before walking back to her group. "You're...welcome."  
  


_'All right, maybe this is half as bad,'_ Larry hummed to himself, a little skip in his heart as he headed back downstairs and waited for Rebecca.  
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena IX  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

When she unlocked the front door, she wanted to run straight upstairs to her room and collapsed onto the bed.  
  


But she refrained her urge, shutting the door and removed her shoes instead. Her feet ached, considering the number of times she ran around in the museum - including up and down the stairs and through the subway all the way home. She regretted not bringing a pair of spare flats with her that day.  
  


She winced and massaged her feet, leaning against the wall. As her feet adjusted and relaxed enough for her to walk, Rowena removed her coat, before hearing the sound of metal clattering from the kitchen.  
  


Her eyes and ears became alert, taking her satchel with her and slowly sauntering down the small hallway to the sound. Once she heard several meows and a low masculine voice, her face hardened - hands grasped down into pocket before taking a few steps past the door frame.  
  


As she entered the kitchen slowly, Rowena's eyes darted across the island and immediately her hands relaxed. She then spoke calmly, "Good morning."  
  


The man turned around from cabinet, a mug on hand and his face morphed into tinted slightly red, "Oh!" He began, "Uh...hey. Hi."  
  


Rowena stepped forward, her eyes never leaving him as she gave him a neutral expression, "Hi...you must be Garret."  
  


"And you must be Rowen." Garret raised an eyebrow and pointed at her. "Or Ro? Do people call you Ro?"  
  


"Just Rowen, thank you." She replied, trying to refrain herself from making this any more awkward.  
  


"You were at that party, right?"  
  


Finding Leo beside her, Rowena nodded and said, "Oh yes, New Year’s."  
  


"Not your thing? I mean it's always clubbing and light and drinks..." Garret trailed off.  
  


Rowena had said nothing. She could already sense the awkward tension soaring, and her mind was telling her to try and find a way to escape.  
  


"Sorry," Garret stuttered, "I…Uh…"  
  


"Parties and lectures are almost similar." Rowena faked a smile and asked him, "Is Leslie still asleep?"  
  


He turned the kettle on, letting the water boil before placing his mug down, "No, she's in the shower. She's got a shift in two hours." He then leaned backwards, "Woah, uh...hey kitty."  
  


Leo jumped onto the counter, and Rowena thanked the feline mentally as it moved towards the man. Garret quickly moved his mug away, letting a nervous laugh out.  
  


She raised an eyebrow, "Scared of cats-"  
  


"No, no of course not." He shook his head, and he explained: "I'm allergic you see."  
  


"Leo is pretty well behaved,” Rowena spoke. “Come one, Leo. I'll give you breakfast and then I'll head up to bed." Leo went up to her, letting her pet him.  
  


A soft purr came from Leo as she gestured to Garret, "Just help yourself, I'm sure we stocked up the pantry."  
  


Rowena silently thanked Leslie's feline friend for cutting the awkwardness and petted him one last time. He hopped off the island and wandered out of the kitchen, presumably back to the lounge.  
  


"Thanks..." Garret paused, "Hey, Rowen. You specialise in the Old Kingdom of Egypt right?"  
  


"Yes…” She answered. “What about it?”  
  


"If you're available. It would be great if you could help out a friend of mine and myself with some of our coursework." Garret rambled on, but then paused himself when he realised how much he was talking. "Not now, I mean."  
  


Rowena could only smile back and reply, "Of course."  
  


"Sweet, thanks." He praised, pouring hot water into his mug.  
  


On the stir of the spoon, Leslie entered the room, arms stretched upwards and a bag slung over her shoulder. She was wearing her hospital scrubs already, with hair tied back.  
  


Leslie began, "Best shower ever- oh, hi." She paused her sentence once she glanced up to find Rowena by the island.  
  


"Morning." A real tired smile formed on Rowena’s lips, amused at her friend's entrance.  
  


Cheeks turning pink, Leslie began. "Sorry. I kind of-"  
  


"Don't worry. I'm just heading up to bed for a bit." Rowena reassured her flatmate, beginning to head for the door.  
  


As she was about to pass through, she received a concerned look from Leslie.  
  


"You've been up all night?" She turned to hear Garret's voice come from across the room.  
  


Leslie explained, "She works on night shifts sometimes."  
  


Her eyes didn't move from the two of them as Rowena simply added, "Museum work."  
  


"Get some rest, Rowen." As Leslie assured her, she began heading to the pantry. "And it's fine. I'll do Leo's breakfast."  
  


Rowena then heard another yelp. She wished she didn't feel pleased when she watched Leo try and brush pass Garret Trench's leg. Though, Rowena could already sense in her heart and mind that the cat already seemed to know very well who was the better human.  
  


"Les...Leo's uh." He began and stumbled back before hitting his back on the counter. A couple of drops of coffee spilt over the floor.  
  


Sighing, Leslie strode over and picked Leo up. "Go, I'll sort this man out before I leave." Whilst Garret left, Leslie turned to her and rolled her eyes. "Men."  
  


Rowena smirked internally and held a small smile on her lips.  
  


"I'm still here."  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She missed the sound of silence. It allowed her to think more clearly and loudly in her mind. The best place that gave her this haven seemed to be the public library in New York. Though, the only reason she wanted to head to a place like this was because of what happened last night.  
  


To her honesty, Rowena couldn't sleep. Too many worried thoughts swirled around like a whirlpool in her head, with the familiar face of a pharaoh appearing in her mind until she would remove it before the guilt would overfill her.  
  


However, it seemed the odds weren't wanting her to rest. When she rounded down the aisle, Rowena passed over a figure sat on the ground before she took a double-take.  
  


She furrowed her eyebrows and slowly retraced her steps.  
  


Sat on the floor was Larry Daley: surrounded by a stack of books from all sorts of colours and sizes.  
  


Rowena hissed, "Larry?"  
  


Larry sprung from his spot. Sounds of books clattering to the floor made Rowena wince. She gave him an apologetic smile, before giving her hand to him.  
  


"Oh god." He loudly whispered and looked at her with a pleading look, "Can you...stop with the scaring thing? Please?"  
  


"I wasn't intending it to be a reoccurring event." Rowena pulled him up, picking up the books on the floor as she asked: "What in Ra's name are you doing on the floor?"  
  


Letting out a sigh, he gestured to the book in his hand. "As you can see, I am reading."  
  


"On the floor?" She raised an eyebrow.  
  


He kept quiet.  
  


Her faced relaxed and she suggested, "Come and sit with me."  
  


They went down towards an area with desks scattered orderly around them, placing the books she brought with Larry onto the table as quietly as possible. She already assumed why Larry was in the library, considering how all the books he picked out were all related to history. And Rowena guessed the man was planning to return to the museum.  
  


A feeling of happiness was felt in her heart, relieved as well that Larry decided to try another night. Rowena only hoped that he would continue the job, though the prospect of handling tonight seemed a bit low after reminiscing the first one.  
  


Instead, they read in silence. Larry continued reading whilst she kept herself indulged in some books on native American weapons - jotting notes down until she felt a tap on her arm. She lowered her book down, discovering Larry eye her across the desk.  
  


He started, "How can I... sort those minis out?"  
  


Humming, she quietly replied back in thought: "The Aztecs might continue shooting you. They tend to, even real or animated, whenever they spot anything that looks larger than themselves."  
  


"Right." He hummed back. "And about Octavius and Jed?"  
  


She gave him an amused smile and said, "Octavius...you know their names."  
  


"They introduced themselves."  
  


Rowena explained carefully, trying to thread her words correctly. "I believe that every civilisation to be different yet still follow the same beliefs as we do." She paused. "We all want the best for our people and anyone that is different or against it, we tend to try and fight against them.”  
  


He blinked a few times before responding, "Wow, never really thought of that."  
  


To her view, after meeting the cowboy for the first time: she realized many things what happened between the exhibits every night. Jedediah seemed more desperate than hostile, giving up only a couple of moments once Larry picked him by his clothes. She could imagine how helpless someone would be if they were treated like them.  
  


It sent a flare of anger up Rowena's chest, and she already knew what had happened ever since the tablet brought the museum to life.  
  


"I think it's best for them to talk to each other of their customs and choices. Let them free." She gave him her honest advice.  
  


"Yeah and try and hurt me." Larry drawled and let out a short huff.  
  


But she gave him a pleading look until he changed his mind.  
  


"I'll try and talk it out." He added.  
  


Rowena nodded to that and replied, "I'm sure you will."  
  


After a couple of hours in the library, they separated their ways. She needed to head back to the museum and continue work after missing most of the day sleeping and trying to calm herself from her worries. Meeting with several people for a board meeting without sufficient sleep was not on her agenda today and she kindly told them that there had been a 'personal' situation at home.  
  


Whilst Larry went home to get more sleep, she sat herself down in the conservation room and continued analysing some finds. Rebecca came in and out sometimes, kindly grabbing her a cup of coffee before preparing to go home. Rowena should really thank her for much of the work around the museum.  
  


As the clock began to strike nearing to sundown, Rowena glanced over the tall windows and saw the sun peeking behind the skyscrapers. She knew that the full-time guards would begin packing up today permanently, giving her a sense of relief.  
  


She entered the main hall, finding Larry already with one of the dinosaur's ribs in his hand. She coughed softly, making him flick around with a confused expression:  
  


"I thought you went home?" He asked.  
  


Rowena described what had happened that day, "I did, but a few hours were fine enough. I had to head back before Richard, I mean McPhee, could have a go at me." She paused. "I was supposed to have a meeting today, but I missed it. Thought the library might help me with calming my stress."  
  


"That's a unique way to de-stress out." He then noticed what she said and quickly added: "And I'm sorry if I didn't-"  
  


"Don't apologise, Larry." She stopped him from starting a full-on apology. "I'm just glad to hear that you've decided to try it again."  
  


He glanced at his hand, waving the bone in front of him. "Yeah, I uh, thought one night might just be bad. I was probably overreacting."  
  


"What did you think? I wasn't expecting things to turn back to life." Rowena tried to cheer things up only to find Larry giving her an odd look. "It's all special effects in the movies."  
  


He still said nothing.  
  


She shook her head and then waved herself off. "Alright. I'll start locking things up in the conservation department. If you need me, I'll be there."  
  


Larry then cut her off and asked, "Wait. You're staying? Why?"  
  


She sighed and waved her arms, gesturing to the dinosaur and Teddy, who was still a statue. "Because now I realised that this might be a completely different situation I thought it would be. I'll want to try and keep you alive whilst you keep the museum intact."  
  


Larry then blurted out, “Look um.” He began and solemnly said. “Thank you…again for helping.”  
  


“Of course.” She replied. “I am a walking history book. I tend to know most things when I’m not constantly focusing on broken pieces of artefacts.”  
  


"Right,” Larry curtly tilted his head and trailed off, "You've got work or..."  
  


"Yes, just some analysing and restoration." She grinned spoke back. "Good luck. I'll see you tonight."  
  


She thought she heard a nervous chuckle, but Rowena assumed it had been in her head. Hopefully, tonight won't be as bad she thought it was last night. The worst-case scenario was that things might go against their tide, and perhaps send one of them to hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things for parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	10. New Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry tries working for a second night at the museum, assisted by the information he got from reading, Rowena and Rebecca. Though, you can't get exactly far with fables, texts and rumors about the exhibits.

** Larry VII  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

When Rexy came to life: Larry was ready.  
  


Well almost.  
  


Larry took a deep gulp, eyeing the dinosaur as it got used to its movements until it noticed his presence several feet away. It began to snarl, though not after Larry pressed the button on the control. As he turned it on, the sound of revving wheels echoed in the room.  
  


In a sudden moment, a toy monster truck rolled past along with Rexy's bone attached at the end of a rope.  
  


At that instant, Rexy flicked its head to the moving object - transfixed by the moving toy. Once it zoomed away, the dinosaur roared with delight and ran to catch it. Larry placed it in full speed, letting it drive all the way down the long corridor. Rexy chased it like a happy dog, disappearing into the museum.  
  


Larry grinned and said to himself, "Go crazy, big guy."  
  


The end of Rexy's tail vanished round the corner before Larry down to the back of the main hall, satchel slumped across his body. Greeted by five snarling cave men, Larry stepped back and eyed them closely.  
  


They stared at him with unnerving wide eyes, something which Larry could comprehend if they were still alive or still made of wax. One of them roared with anger and began to jump onto Larry until he shoved his hand out.  
  


He said, "Hey, guys." Pressing his thumb down, he ignited the lighter on his hand. "Quest for fire? Over."  
  


Almost like snapping a stick, they went silent, too awed at the flames. Larry closed the lighter and tossed it to them, letting their hands flail to try and fight for it. "Knock yourselves out." He gestured, hearing glee from them as he left them to their devices.  
  


' _Hopefully, Rowen doesn't find out I gave them a lighter_ ,' Larry bit his lip when the thought went across. He was sure that nothing seemed too flammable other than their own wax selves. ' _Wait, do they turn to actual living people? Like with real skin, or are they wax..._ '  
  


On the first floor, Larry arrived in front of the large East Island head. It then noticed his presence as he spoke, "Morning, dum-dum."  
  


In a loud bass tone, it said: "Me no dum-dum. You dum-dum." It then paused. "You bring me gum-gum?"  
  


Rummaging his bag of essential 'weapons', Larry grabbed what he needed and took it out. Larry grinned, "Yes, I did, fathead."  
  


On his hand, was a large ball of gum. It took him half an hour (and probably most of the leftover change he had) to unwrap and stick each piece together. He quickly saw the statue widen its hollows eyes in awe before Larry could toss it into its mouth.  
  


"Lots and lots of gum-gum." He said. He mentally checked three things off his list - and then decided to tackle the room he was extremely nervous about.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The Diorama room was eerily calmer than usual. He leaned his head into the room, panning around. It appeared that neither figurine nor set had wreaked havoc in the room, and Larry mentally sighed before grabbing his keys and a baseball mitten from his bag.  
  


He strode over to the first exhibit. Once the Aztec people saw his shadow over loom their temple, he stretched his right arm out, dodging the arrows flying towards him. They were tiny little things, like pins pricking his skin when he first experienced it last night. Though this time, he was prepared. As he shielded his face with the baseball mitten, his hand grabbed for the metal-glass railing and pulled it across.  
  


Once he locked it shut, he let go from holding his breath.  
  


"What's that? I can't hear you through the glass." Larry jokingly frowned as the muffled sound of Aztecs and tiny sticks hitting the glass run his ears. He shrugged his shoulders and spoke, "Sorry."  
  


Larry turned around, hearing thumping behind him. With curious eyes, he wandered over across - spotting the Romans crowding about on the left side of their exhibit. Right there, several men were carrying on either side a stone pillar simultaneously shoving it towards the wall. Standing beside them was the same general: Octavius.  
  


"Heave. Heave. Heave."  
  


Octavius chanted out until Larry cut him off.  
  


He questioned them, "Hey, what's going on over here?"  
  


Octavius glanced up to him, a stern expression on his face. "We expand or we die." He then returned to his orders. "Heave. Heave!"  
  


Larry then heard several cries from the exhibit next to them. When he glanced down onto the wild west scene, he spotted Jedediah and some of his posse, a bunch of brown crate huddle next to a wall. His mind finally realised what they were doing.  
  


"On the count of three: you blow this anthill to kingdom come." Jedediah loudly spoke, "And a one and a two-"  
  


"-Hey, Jed. Stop that." Larry cut him off, making Jedediah pause to stare at him. "No, no. You blow a hole in your mountain, all you're gonna hit is a wall."  
  


"Step aside, Gigantor." He scoffed, and then quickly cried out: "We got us a railroad to build. We're blowing a hole in that thing!"  
  


Sighing out loud, Larry began, "Okay, first of all, enough with the Gigantor giant stuff, okay?" He gestured to his keys, shaking it in his hand. "I'm just trying to close up shop."  
  


However, the cowboy seemed to ignore him again. "We're gonna blow it anyway. And a three!"  
  


Larry waited, glancing down to find the box of crates to be dynamite, stacked up against a tunnel over the train tracks. There was a small string leading towards an igniter - held on Jedediah's hands. The only thing he could ask was, "Yeah. What are you doing?"  
  


The cowboy exasperated back. "What's it look like we're doing? It's manifest destiny! You can't fight it, and neither can I!" He turned back to the rest of the mini figures and shouted, "Go! More dynamite!"  
  


A small pop entered Larry's ears, and he looked to find just several dust particles on the floor of the railroad.  
  


When he glanced back to the Roman side, they were still hitting the wall with their battering ram, slowly making a dent on the wall. He wondered how Rowen would react to see most the museum beginning to be vandalized by its own exhibits.  
  


"Yeah, use it all. All right." He rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Okay. Listen, Octavus? You gotta stop that."  
  


The general retorted back with a sarcastic tone. "It's Octavius, _Mary_."  
  


"Okay, you know what? Fine." Larry plucked the Roman with the tip of his fingers, feeling Octavius shake in protest. "Great. Here you go. This is what happens."  
  


"You cannot do this. I am a Roman general!"   
  


"Sorry, I have rights." He replied and placed him down on the central bench. Larry then returned and picked up the cowboy. "And you-"  
  


Jedediah objected, shouting back: "-Hey, no! Put me down!"  


"Keep heaving, men. You can't stop progress!" Octavius ordered from the bench as Larry placed Jedediah down and spoke. "We're gonna have a little talk, okay?"  
  


"I told you, I don't like to be manhandled!" Jedediah complained but was cut off.  
  


"No, I will manhandle you, Jedediah." Larry snapped. The two miniature people grew quiet, allowing him to sigh. "Now, listen, guys. What is your problem, huh? Why can't you just get along?"  
  


Jedediah glanced up at him, explaining simply as possible. "Look, we're men. We fight, okay? That's what we do."  
  


"It's kind of how we pass the time." Octavius reasoned, agreeing to the cowboy next to him.  
  


"You're, like, a giant. A freak if you will." Jedediah gestured to him, making Larry feel slightly more offended than usual. "We can't expect you to understand that."  
  


Larry curled his lip, trying to maintain his frustrations in order. He remembered what Rowen told him this morning, the advice whispering in his mind until he said back: "You got the whole room to run around in. You don't have to be near each other."  
  


"What, you mean...?" Octavius trailed.  
  


"You're gonna let us out?" Jedediah's eyes were wide in astonishment, disbelieved at what he said. He muttered out, "What, and just roam free?"  
  


"Yeah. Yeah, I might, if you promise to behave." Larry nodded and pointed at the two. "That means no fireballs, no explosions, okay?"  
  


The Roman general beat his chest with his fist, saluting him. "You have my word, my liege."  
  


"Yeah, no problemo, Gigantor." The cowboy reassured him.  
  


He quickly added, "My name's Larry, first of all. Okay, Jed? So I call you Jed. I don't call you Tiny, right?"  
  


A hurtful expression appeared on Jedediah's face. He said, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  


"'Hey, Teeny.' How does that sound?" Larry placed his hands on his hips, chortling.  
  


Jedediah replied, "I don't like it. It hurts my feelings."  
  


"'Gigantor' makes me feel like some sort of freak, so..." Larry tilted his head, spotting Octavius look back in a neutral expression.  
  


The Roman answered, "I don't. I just call you Larry."  
  


"Don't be a kiss-ass, okay?" Larry pointed back at Octavius and exhaled. "Look, I'm trusting you guys, all right? If you don't do what I say, you can end up like the Aztec world there. Locked up. Take a look. Do they look happy?"  
  


Gesturing towards the other exhibit, they saw the Aztec people continuing to fire arrows at the glass, angered by their encasement. He glanced back to find two pairs of eyes looking meekly back, hinting that they didn't want their fate to become like the Aztecs.  
  


"No. They look sad." Jedediah answered.  
  


"They can't do what they wanna do. Now, I'm letting you guys...have a little bit of leash here. Don't choke me with it, okay?" Larry stepped back and looked at his watch. He needed to try and make sure everyone was settled and locked up in time. He already took too long here. "I gotta run. You guys play nice, okay? Okay. Good. Thanks."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena X  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

It took a few corridors until Rowena finally stumbled upon the night guard. Finding him in the animal kingdom exhibit, she allowed herself to be noticed as she called out the night guard's name out loud.  
  


He quickly noticed her as he turned and nodded back. "Oh hey, Rowen. Did you get your work done?"  
  


As she arrived at his side, taking the same pace as he strode. "Yes. Now I'm just making sure you're alive." A grin escaped her lips, making Larry sigh back with a tired grin.  
  


He replied, "Yeah well, let me just sort these folks out."  
  


They walked around another corner, making their way towards the hall of animals. She trailed behind him, taking her steps slower as they arrived at the main doors. Rowena remembered to do the littlest objectives, changing to a pair of flats tonight if she wanted her feet to be intact. It also helped her to walk around without any of the exhibits looking at her way since the last night resulted in a run-in with some alpacas and an ostrich.  
  


As Larry checked the room, he began to pull the metal gates across until she heard a small squeal up in the trees. Rowena's head quickly glanced to where the noise came from and found a Capuchin hanging from a branch.   
  


"Oh, hey, Dexter. I'm just locking up," Larry spoke in an odd cheery voice.  
  


Rowena watched both the man and Dexter (' _I believe his name was that_ ') stare at each other, hearing the monkey squeak back in response. Larry closed the gates, hearing the metal reverberate.   
  


Dexter then shrieked in excitement. Right in the capuchin's hand was a set of keys - toy keys. He shook it in cheekiness, laughing at Larry.  
  


Then, Rowena spectated with confusion as Larry frowned, " What's that? Did you get my keys? I don't think so. Looks like Uncle Larry pulled a fast one on little Dexie." With the real keys, he held it up in front of him, shaking it in his fingers.  
  


Biting her lip, she called him: "Larry..."  
  


"Those are baby keys for a little baby. Have fun with your baby keys, little baby monkey. Tomorrow I'll bring you a little baby diapy so you can go poo-poo in it. I'll give you a tickle because you're a cute baby."  
  


She bit her tongue, watching the two bickered about.  
  


Larry cooed back, "While you cry all night long about how Uncle Larry fooled you, huh?"  
  


The capuchin shrieked.  
  


"I told you there was a storm coming." Larry glared back. Dexter squealed back, dropping the key onto the floor.  
  


As they left the animal exhibit, Rowena stifled her chuckle - causing Larry's cheeks to turn pink.  
  


She gave him an amused look, asking: "Do you often argue with a capuchin or is it just a misunderstood relationship?"   
  


"Rowen-"  
  


She bit her lip, stopping herself to chuckle back. Instead, she grinned back. "Honestly, this is the most amusing thing I've seen recently. And seeing you being pummelled by tiny Romans and Cowboys was already a showstopper."  
  


Larry let out a hefty laugh. "Ha-ha... The show costs extra, sorry. Try and unwrap dozens of chewing gum and giving it to an Easter Island head."  
  


Her grin never left her lips, following him afterwards. "Hmm, I'll think about it."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She wandered a few more times during the night, taking a small nap in the security office. Rowena didn't really mind staying up all night; though Larry insisted it, telling her to take some rest rather than doing the job he was supposed to do. And after their short arguments, Rowena gave up and obliged.   
  


She hadn't mind at all, sleeping wasn't her priority for decades. There were times in her life where she stayed up for four days and only took a nap for an hour. It confused her sometimes, ever since her 'death', as Rowena never felt the need to sleep for too long. That was why this morning, she only needed a few hours to regenerate her energy - whereas Larry seemed to be running on caffeine and adrenaline.  
  


As she entered the American exhibit, Rowena was greeted with peace. The civil war soldiers were hunting downstairs, leaving Sacajawea, Lewis and Clark behind the glass containment. What she didn't realise was the man standing afar.   
  


Rowena approached him, falling to his side as she greeted him. "Hello, Teddy."  
  


He jumped, flicking his eyes to her with a gleeful expression. "Lady Rowena! Delighted to see you, where is our newest night guard?"  
  


Rowena ignored the name as she responded politely, "Still trying to reign the exhibits at this very moment."  
  


Clicking his tongue, the president exclaimed, "Ah, I knew he'd come back. He's a man on a mission."  
  


"He said he'll give it another night." She exhaled and continued. " ...For me, I hope he stays."  
  


She felt his gaze at her, studying her face. He seemed quite taken back, though a hopeful and agreeing hum escaped his mouth.  
  


"I say I must agree with your wish, Rowena," Teddy asked. "Please say, I might be a bit rude, but why do you believe Lawrence will stay?"  
  


Rowena paused. She never really considered any reason, or thoughts about the man. She's met too many people, and she knew well that after a few decades or so: Rowena saw the same eyes in each person. For Larry, she saw a man who was lost: someone who was running in a maze - no idea to get out.  
  


Did she want to help him? To give him a purpose?   
  


Rowena discussed out loud, "I've only met him for a couple of weeks, but I know a person who wants to make things better for everyone if I see one." She then looked at Teddy with a confident look. "I think Larry will take care of you all very well if he sees the light."  
  


"High praise for such a young woman," Teddy answered.  
  


"I trust him, as a friend and co-worker."  
  


Her voice trailed off once she realised the president's attention averted to somewhere else. His eyes were staring off in front of them. Theodore Roosevelt was watching the woman past the glass case, a misty pane across his irises. She bit her lip, mixed with shock and amusement. Out of all people, she never thought the quote 'opposites attract' would fit suit.  
  


' _Don't be a hypocrite_ ,' She scolded herself. ' _You've done this all before_.'  
  


Cutting the silence, she calmly spoke, "Hmm, if I want to put it in a modern American way: I'd say you're checking her out."  
  


Teddy scoffed, waving her off. "The nerve! Checking her out... I've never heard of such a thing."  
  


"She is very beautiful, you know." Rowena piped up.  
  


"Beautiful?" He echoed back.  
  


"Yes."  
  


He stuttered, gesturing to the person they were speaking of. "Rather handsome...woman, I suppose."  
  


She glanced up at him, smiling back. "Why don't you go talk to her."  
  


Teddy nodded, patting her shoulder. Rowena could sense the man's cheeks flush, though once he noticed it, he glanced away.  
  


He thanked her once more. "Indeed. Bless you, lass."   
  


The former president sauntered without a hurry toward the lit-up exhibit, letting Rowena observe from afar. It gave a nostalgic sense inside her, memorising several moments in her life when this happened to her. She admired many from afar throughout her years, but she knew to be sensible when it came to her close heart and her condition.  
  


It was just like this, though now it seemed to be between a wax statue and plaster one. Separated by a physical barrier and the situation of their existence.  
  


However, Rowena has always urged many of her friends to always take the risk. To take the chance whenever possible, even if it was spontaneous or not. And the infatuation the president wore on his sleeve made her remember a similar person she had grown close to over a century ago. Her best friend who loved a woman he could not have.  
  


"Don't miss an opportunity, sir," Rowena called out.  
  


Teddy looked over his shoulder and saw her encouraging smile to him.  
  


"Of course, of course." He replied.  
  


Before she left Teddy to his quest, she muttered a simple reply - hoping he would be brave enough to finally speak to the native American woman. "Good luck, Teddy."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry VII  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

It went all wrong.  
  


Larry wanted to scream. It was only one mistake.  
  


One moment, he was amusing Attila the Hun and his group with magic tricks. The typical coin behind the ear and the disappearing scarf. And next thing Larry knew he was being picked up, on each limb, and being ripped apart by a bunch of angry Mongolians.  
  


Thankfully, Rowen came to save the day - speaking in an entirely different language which Larry wished he knew from the first night. But there wasn't any time for him to be really annoyed at Rowen, considering how a large mammoth decided to barge through. The Huns dropped him, and he winced in pain after being stretched in each muscle.  
  


Then hell came.  
  


The whole place was against his tides, rampaging animals to ranting Italian statues (to which Larry still didn't know who it was). Out of all people - or monkeys - Dexter escaped his exhibit and stole his keys. He could have sworn that he didn't come across the capuchin at all since he locked him up.  
  


He told Rowen to start calming everybody down, making sure the Huns wouldn't try and rip his limbs off, and also bring the animals back to the animal kingdom. As for him, he chased Dexter out of the main hall. It didn't help when he took a double-take and gaped in shock to see the Neanderthals caught on fire.  
  


After putting the statues' fire off, he sped down the corridor arriving at a full carnage of mini figurines. Larry didn't have time for any of it and continued pass through.  
  


With a mental smirk, Larry caught the monkey at a dead-end - standing up on the windowsill.   
  


Larry hissed back. "Dexter. End of the line, cool breeze." He took his time to take a quick breath. "End of the line. I am not playing games here. Just hand them over."  
  


The monkey titled his head, as the keys clattered against each other. Larry took a step forward, stretching his hand gently. Dexter then copied.  
  


He whispered, "Easy. That's it, Dexter. Nice and easy, Dex. That's it."  
  


Dexter got closer, raising the keys towards Larry. Though once his eyes stared at the set of keys, Larry's face flicked. He moaned, cradling his face in pain.  
  


The capuchin slapped him.  
  


Larry gaped. The monkey had the audacity-  
  


Gritting his teeth, he hit Dexter by the face. The monkey seemed unfazed and slapped Larry again.  
  


Smacking him once more, Larry tried to grab the keys.  
  


"Good Lord, Lawrence! Why are you slapping a monkey?"  
  


He paused, feeling the embarrassment surge in Larry. When he spotted the man stared at him in shock, Larry whined.   
  


"Teddy, this guy's been pushing me, and I'm sick of it!" He wailed and pointed at Dexter - hearing a squeal from Dexter.  
  


Teddy scoffed, "Poppycock. This little creature is your primate brother. Without him, there's no 'us'." The paused in his words, taking another look at him. "Are you rabid? Wipe that off."  
  


His fingers grazed over his face, and Larry quickly wiped the foam off.  
  


"You have to deal with this creature with love and respect." Extending his hand, Teddy asked Dexter. "May I have the keys, dear friend?"  
  


Larry internally screamed, seeing Dexter willingly handed them to Teddy. He sighed heavily, before striding away.  
  


In the distance, he heard Teddy call out. "Lawrence?"  
  


Once the former president caught up to him, he said. "Well, you know what? You seem to know what you're doing, so I'm gonna let you take over."  
  


Larry paused at a crossroad, finding a dishevelled Rowen. Strands of hair out of her bun and some dark stains on her cardigan. When their eyes crossed, he saw her face contort to concern as she walked up to them.  
  


Teddy held him back by the shoulder. "No, no. My dear boy, you can't put up the white flag now!” He said. “The museum is on the verge of total anarchy-"  
  


Immediately, Larry spun round and cried, "I tried! I came back tonight, didn't l?"  
  


"Tried? That was one night." Teddy exclaimed. "I didn't build the Panama Canal in one day!"  
  


Larry continued to walk to the main hall, hearing the quickening paces of feet. He went to the reception desk and grabbed the scarves and bat on the counter. "That's great, but I'm dealing with the most ridiculous job in history."  
  


"Some men are born great, Lawrence-"  
  


He stopped him with a deadpanned look. "Yeah, I know. Others have greatness thrust upon them." Larry pointed. "You hit me with that chestnut last night. The thing is, not everyone is great. _That's_ the problem. Some of us are just ordinary."  
  


In the corner of his eye, he found Rowen glancing away.  
  


Teddy shook his head. "No, you're not, Lawrence. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Every journey begins with a footstep." He gestured his hands outward. "Teach the inhabitants to get along, they wouldn't need to be locked up."  
  


Rowen piped. "That’s rather hypocritical from a man who's spent the last fifty years ogling a woman through a glass panel." He saw her quickly snap her lip shut. "I’m sorry. Sir."  
  


Larry looked at him with disbelief. He didn't really want to know more or anything what happened. Instead, he blinked once more.  
  


"I was going to make contact." Teddy squirmed and then began, "Lawrence, please."  
  


Picking up his duffel bag and satchel, he let out an exhale. "I'm done, all right?"  
  


Larry walked towards the men's toilets, getting ready for the sun to come up. He heard the sound of light taps.  
  


He heard a cry. "No Larry, Listen-"  
  


A large figure ran past him, wagging its tail at him.   
  


Just as the dinosaur roared, Larry snapped back. "No, Rexy! No!"   
  


Rexy whimpered and staggered back to its wooden podium. He looked about, to discover Rowen approaching him. He quickly continued his way towards the men's restroom.  
  


She said, "Larry, please listen to me.”  
  


Turning around, he found her facing him. A pleading expression in her eyes. Though, no matter how he looked longer at Rowen: Larry's mind refrained from being tugged with guilt.  
  


Larry spun around and took a couple of steps. A metallic figure strode past - muttering to what seemed to be Italian.  
  


"I'm sorry, Rowen." He sighed, "And I'm sorry, Galileo or whoever..." Larry quietened down, detecting that the Italian figurehead kept rambling on. As the man stopped, he lifted his finger to left - pointing down the hallway.  
  


At the very end, was the window - wide open.  
  


His breath cut off.  
  


Rowen whispered, "Larry..."  
  


Paying no attention to her voice, Larry could only let his legs carry him. "No...no, no..."  
  


He sprinted. Passing Rexy and Teddy through the main hall and barging open the front doors. The street was empty, with several piles of snow shovelled at the side. Though right on the middle of the road, was a gruffly looking figure.  
  


One of the Neanderthals.  
  


Worry built up, and as his eyes noticed the glowing orange hue in the sky - Larry could only gape wide.  
  


The sun appeared from the background of trees and buildings. And as ray hit the Museum, he felt a sudden breeze. The Neanderthal froze in his step, before seeing his whole head disintegrating. As a few seconds passed, there was no more person stood on the road.  
  


Only a pile of ash was left.  
  


Larry glanced to his side and spot her lips waver.  
  


"Gods..." Rowen barely let out a sound, wide-eyed.  
  


Larry breathed. "Rowen, I-"  
  


"No, no. I...no." She quickly said, still staring out on the street. "I'll explain it to him. But Larry."  
  


"I really am, Rowen." Larry gave her a final gaze.  
  


She shut her lips tightly.  
  


"But this is the last time, okay? How can I take care of this when I can't even take care of my own son?" He asked with a croaky voice. “I did this for my son. And this isn’t going to cut the money that I need to take care of him.”  
  


He swallowed back the bile down his throat.   
  


She nodded her head once, tucking her hair back. Rowen said calmly. "I see."  
  


Larry opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. He didn't think he needed to say anything else. What happened just then proved it. He couldn't do this, take care of people that he couldn't get along. Years of trying to prove to himself that his ideas could change people for the better never seemed to go well. And when it did, it only lasted for a short time.  
  


What did Rowen see in him? Or Teddy, or anyone?  
  


Larry knew that once Dr McPhee saw the mess he created. And from that, it was already over. He'll probably try and avert his presence away from Rowen.  
  


As he passed through the still statue of Teddy, he stopped and walked backwards.  
  


Dangling on the president’s fingertips were the keys.   
  


Larry's mind was fighting two sides. He quickly took them off and sped down back to the men's restroom. Though the last thing he heard from behind him was barely a faint whisper, as he turned to see Rowen looking at him - sadness embedded in her eyes.  
  


"Oh, Robert...I'm so sorry."  
  


He didn’t hear the last bit of what the curator said.  
  


“I promised to take care of them. And I failed you...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eee! Thank you again for the kudos and your patience. I've just been busy trying to sort my chapters and my editing at the moment that I forgot to put this up. As well as that I've got other things going on at the moment, preferably trying to sort uni things and a lot of cooking.
> 
> I also wanted to show my support in the current situation happening across the US despite not being there myself. As someone who is writing in the narrative of a woman of colour as the main character, I did take a lot of consideration in making sure I acknowledge the things in history. I love Rowena as a character because her personality helps build and evolve what society thinks now into the modern and she learns throughout her life as well as teaching the rest of the world of being strong and confident with who you are. 
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things for parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.
> 
> Hope you guys are well and staying safe. #blacklivesmatter


	11. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the second night change's Rowena's mind on her thought's of Larry. But when a certain person sees McPhee fire Larry, Larry gives in to give it one final shot and decides to reveal the secret of the museum to them.
> 
> Though in the third night, things are not what they seemed. Three former night guards perhaps have something to do with the exhibits not turning back to life. Their little stunt might allow the person they've been trying to lock for years break out for the first time into the new millennium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have anything to say in this chapter other than thank you again for the kudos and comments. I'm glad that you're enjoying this a lot. 
> 
> On the other hand, I guess we know what part of the movie we're in now. ;) Get ready for some old and new faces, and of course our favourite mummy.
> 
> Hope you are having a good day/night!

**Rowena XI  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

The museum opened, and what arrived was Richard McPhee's tsunami of rants towards the new night guard.  
  


She mentally wanted to curse to herself for not trying to intervene sooner, forced to watch in the distance by one of the hallways. Rowena hid behind one of the tall plants, enough to see them in view.  
  


What was worse was seeing the disappointed expression on Larry's son's face when he turned up once the museum opened. A wave of memories flooded her as she saw the emotion on his face. Throughout her life, she encountered disappointed looks from many faces - though nothing hurts more when it was a child looking at their parent. She already experienced it as well, letting her memories those mix brown and blue eyes on hers. Tears threatening from her tear ducts.  
  


"You're fired, Mr Daley," Richard told Larry one last time.  
  


Larry tried to explain himself, "But-"  
  


"No buts or ifs." Richard pointed his finger at him. "You were supposed to make sure the exhibits stayed intact and safe. And what do I find?”  
  


Larry physically flinched.  
  


“Foam, all over the Neanderthal display!"  
  


Rowena internally winced and glanced her eyes across to the place he mentioned. Right in clear evidence was the very thing that caused this. Last night, somehow the Neanderthals obtained some way to make fire, causing their fake 'fire' in the display to actually catch on fire. With all the issues growing to full anarchy, Rowena didn't notice the mess until Richard screamed from one of the corridors.  
  


Larry sighed, and a tired and defeated look formed on his face. "Look, I'm sorry." He then tilted his head back up, trying to plead to Richard one last time.  
  


But as Rowen suspected, which made her heart crack, Richard shook his head.  
  


"I'm sorry, Mr Daley." He said.  
  


Nodding, Larry passed his torch and keys onto Richard's hand. His eyes glanced over to hers, and all she could do was stay silent - giving him only a sympathetic gaze back to him. He nodded curtly back at her before he turned his back and headed towards the entrance.  
  


Rebecca arrived at the same time, trying to greet Larry as he walked past but he simply waved her off and exited the building.  
  


Her hands shook, and Rowena took a quick breath to refrain her tears. She didn't want this to happen, she couldn't let this happen. ' _Robert won't forgive me if I let this go_ ,' Rowena told herself.  
  


She admitted that years spent with Robert Daley, one thing she knew about him was one of his flaws which were to feel defeated easily in many personal battles. It took her and Howard weeks to try and cheer him up after a day of digging, encouraging him to not give up on the work he loved. She guessed that Robert passed on a similar trait to his grandson.  
  


With another breath, she strode over to Richard, heels clicking. He quickly spotted her and quickened his steps.  
  


She took him by his arm, causing him to yelp. "Richard, Mr Daley didn't mean it."  
  


"Which doesn't explain how he could've damaged the displays," Richard argued. "The museum doesn't have the time to sort things like this-"  
  


Tugging his arm off her grasp, he began to turn away, but she quickly said loudly, "Richard-"  
  


With a final exasperated tone, he cried. "No, Rowen! I can't..."  
  


She ordered him to stop, a shakily exhale as she spoke.  
  


"Richard. Stop and listen to me.” Rowena tightened her tone, letting slip a plea in. “Please."  
  


Not meaning to grab his arm once more, Richard made a squealing noise - but Rowena didn't let go.  
  


Pausing in his steps, he gazed away before clicking his tongue - gesturing for her to explain herself. She relaxed herself.  
  


Rowena stared at him and calmly answered: "I gave you a chance, and many others have too. He's only been given two chances and you decided to already fire him.” She questioned, “How many times did Cambridge give you a chance to have your doctorate?"  
  


He let out a frustrated snort and looked away.  
  


They both knew the answer to that question.  
  


"A person can't be defined by their mistakes." She softly spoke, trying to find his eyes. "Please. Give him one more night, and perhaps he'll get used to it."  
  


Richard pointed at her.  
  


"...Fine, one more night alright."  
  


Rowena couldn't help but beam back. She let go of his arm and Richard rubbed the patch she grabbed. Her body relaxed, and Rowena felt more reassured to Richard's decision. Of course, she felt bad guilt-tripping him about it.  
  


Though in truth, his doctorate did take a lot of turns. Hence why once he began the degree, she was already finishing hers at the same time. Most of the time was her own self: attesting to Richard's research, and it paid off well once she spotted him in a gown - walking onto the podium with a degree in hand.  
  


This was a completely different situation, and Rowena knew he wouldn't easily forgive Larry easily if something else occurred tonight.  
  


He added, "Tell him that, and _specifically_ that.” He made a 'cross' with his arms, making Rowena nod back. “After tonight, no more. Nada."  
  


"Thank you, you're a good person Richard. And a friend." She thanked him, receiving a wave from him.  
  


"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you at the meeting in a few hours, right?" He inquired.  
  


She grinned, "Of course."  
  


Once Richard stalked off, probably back to his office to do some work, Rowena went down to her own to grab her bag. She made sure to leave a note to both Rebecca and Richard that she would just go home to sleep for a bit before the meeting, hoping they wouldn't question anymore other than her assistance with Larry's shift.  
  


Luckily, the said man hadn't wandered off too far. Larry was crossing the road as she rushed down the stone steps - letting her bag bounce at her hip. When he stopped to look at her, Rowena could only sense her lips curl to a grin.  
  


She told him the good news, to which he released a huge sigh before thanking her. His face almost seemed too familiar to Rowena, remembering her former best friend. Perhaps she held too much of Larry, latching his personality along with Robert if she could.  
  


However, she told him one more time that she would stay with him for one last time - hoping tonight would be the one that would let Larry stay. Therefore, the bid themselves farewell, while Larry walked back to his place; Rowena returned home.  
  


Leslie was already gone when she arrived, a small post-it note was stuck on the drawer next to the door. ' _I need to really give some time off to spend with you, Carter_.' Rowena thought to herself, heaving off her shoes and coat and went around the house to scour for Leo. After making sure the cat was still inside, she went up to her floor and got to bed.  
  


As she took off her earrings, she paused.  
  


Her eyes darted across to the photo frame by the dresser. The one Leslie showed to her when she first arrived here.  
  


She held it up, seeing the three faces staring at her. Howard had the usual awkward grin and stiff posture, whereas Robert's eyes sparkled with interest and seemed to casually lean against her younger self.  
  


Thumb wiping across the glass, Rowena muttered. "I wish you could see your grandson. And tell him that he's twice the man he thinks he is." She smiled, shuddering a breath. "You would have loved him all grown up. He's a good man. Too good to be fair...and awfully thinks _so_ high up in the clouds."  
  


"Though what I really wish..." She exhaled. "I wish that he stays. Because I just have a feeling. That something might happen."  
  


She stood there for a few seconds. Nothing happened. The thought of the picture replying to her was a stupid one, and Rowena could only scold herself. Another sigh, she placed it down back on top of the dresser. The moment her head hit the pillow; she was off like a light.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Rowena wandered the halls of the museum. It felt so hollow and empty despite how it was only another hour until closing time. Somehow Rowena felt more in peace. The silence allowed her to think, to feel more of herself as she studied the exhibits.  
  


She hadn't meant to take herself to one place she didn't want to encounter.  
  


When she entered the Egyptian exhibit, she felt a tug in her gut. A feeling of nerves ruffled over her skin as she glided her fingers over the glass casing.  
  


Rowena whispered softly. "Hello, Ahk."  
  


Of course, no one replied. Her words echoed around the dark room.  
  


Rowena began: "I'm sorry if this has been the only time I could talk to you." She paused. "I mean...you're currently asleep at the moment and you might not remember this: but I just wanted to speak to you."  
  


It had been days since she last been in this exhibit. The last time had been her and Larry's first night when Teddy explained to them how the museum really came to life. Rowena could not remove the memory, hearing the distinct screams and moans of his voice. The sarcophagus rattling and clanking onto the sides of the glass case. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her hands over her ears.  
  


She let her friend suffer like this for over fifty years. And what was she doing now? Nothing.  
  


She knew she could be lifting that sarcophagus lid open to all her strength and calming him down. Watching the cloth unwrap from his face until she could see the dark brown eyes at her way. She could be finding herself embraced in his arms again, begging for him to forgive what she did.  
  


Instead, she was a coward. She didn't feel the urge enough to remove the glass and lid, waiting for him to remove himself. She told herself that she had to be sensible, and cautious. If she let out Ahkmenrah at this time, she would have Teddy corner her with questions. Not to mention that Larry would see really who she was. They would never be able to truly trust her if she broke their promise.  
  


However, there was another reason she did not try - and that was she was afraid.  
  


Not afraid of him. But afraid to see the look of betrayal on his face.  
  


' _I shouldn't have let them take you_ ,' Rowena thought. ' _I ripped you away from your parents thinking you would be fine. I was wrong..._ '  
  


Rowena cooled herself down, holding back the tears. "I will try and find a way to reason with them once Larry and I settle everyone down. After that, maybe they'll get used to you." She stared on the face of the sarcophagus with a longing look. "You're not what they believe you to be. Not to me."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Tonight, she wore her usual work outfit but swapping it well with a pair of sports shoes. She fidgeted with her necklace as she sauntered down to where Larry was going to begin, hearing the squeaking of the rubber soles. Rowena approached the front desk, waving to both Larry and his son.  
  


"Here we are, front seat for you." Larry plopped Nick on the top of the counter desk.  
  


Nick, whose eyes panned about the room. "Wow...it's really quiet when it's closed." He whistled.  
  


"I know right? Well, probably not in a few minutes." Larry then acknowledged her. "Hey, Rowen."  
  


Rowen's lips turned to a smile. "Larry." She then turned to the small boy on the desk. "Nick. You've come to join the fiasco of our third night."  
  


An expression of confusion formed in the young boy's face. Perhaps Larry didn't tell his son yet what he _really_ did in the museum. However, Rowena was even more relieved he didn't seem too disappointed. She remembered seeing Nick watch Larry fired by Richard this morning and left as soon as Richard shouted those two words.  
  


She tapped Larry's shoulder as he was rummaging his duffel bag. Rowena spoke. "I've made sure that everything's alright.” She added, “If they're not cooperating, I'll check on them and calm them down. You get things sorted with the more problematic folks."  
  


"What's going on?"  
  


Larry then answered, "If I told you, you'd think I'm crazy. So, I'm gonna show you."  
  


Rowena moved to Nick's side, letting their eyes follow Larry as he strode over to Rexy's skeletal body. Larry tugged out one of the ribs, causing his son to furrow his eyes in confusion. He turned to her, and she nudged Nick over to Larry.  
  


"Okay, you like Tyrannosaurus Rex?" Larry asked loudly. He lifted his left arm up, eyeing his watch and Rexy at the same time. "Yeah? Well, I call him Rexy. And he's about to come to life, Nicholas, in...five, four, three, two... "  
  


She kept her eyes fixated onto the dinosaur. However: nothing seemed to happen.  
  


"Dad?" Nick questioned.  
  


Larry tutted, "Hang on a sec. Say hello to Rexy!" He pointed at the fossil, but Rexy still hadn't moved.  
  


"Dad, are you okay?" His son tried to calm Larry down, letting Rowena feel a sense of uncertainty.  
  


Larry pursed his lips. "This is weird…”  
  


Something thrummed in her chest.  
  


“Guys! Come on! Sundown!" Larry ran over to Teddy, but to avail seemed still frozen as he should during the day. "Hey, T.R., come on, rise and shine. Buddy, I need you to wake up. Come on, my kid is here. I need you to wake up. Texas? Texas! Come on!"  
  


Nick jumped off the counter and interrupted. "Just stop, okay?"  
  


"No, Nicky, I'm telling you, there's this tablet, okay? Called the Tablet of Ahkmenrah. Every night-"  
  


Rowena saw him shake his head as Nick trailed: "Mom was right..."  
  


The two of them looked at each other. Larry tried to find answers on her, but she shook her head and shrugged. This was _really_ odd. The exhibit should have already come to life by now, considering it's been five minutes since sunset. Rowena cautiously gazed up to the statue of the president and tried to see a flicker of difference.  
  


However, nothing moved.  
  


Rowena turned to Larry and Nick. "I'll go and check the conservation department. You guys go up to the exhibit." Her concerned look focused on the younger Daley. "Nick. Follow your father. I don't think we're the only ones in the museum tonight."  
  


Larry opened his mouth.  
  


But, she quickly shut him up as she added. "Go. Check on the tablet. There might be something wrong with it."  
  


' _Or that the tablet shouldn't be where it supposed to be_.'  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She sped down the hallway and descended towards the basement and into the loading warehouse. As she rounded down the staircase, Rowena slowed down.  
  


Her heart was against the top of her chest, beating fast as she felt her stomach drop. Strapped onto her leg, she took the dagger into her hand and held it firmly.  
  


As she entered the loading room, Rowena scanned the place. The large metal doors were partially opened, with a gentle cool gust flowing into the room. Several trolleys and boxes were scattered by the metal shelves lining the walls, filled with all sorts of artefacts. Ones that were from storage or from the display. Even then, they weren't supposed to be here.  
  


Rowena flipped around and spotted it. The tablet sat on top of a pile of other Egyptian gold ornaments and statues. She walked over and picked it up, using her fingers to adjust the pieces together.  
  


"Ugh!"  
  


Rowena's eyes blurred and a ringing sound entered her ears. Her body thrown to the hard cement.  
  


"Well, well… If it isn't Little Miss Ray of Sunshine."  
  


Hissing, she turned immediately, scrambling away but was forced back down. The tablet and dagger fell from her grasp. Though as she stretched for it, an old hand picked it up off the ground. She felt herself being pulled up; her arms locked from behind.  
  


The familiar sense of rope grinding against her wrists as Rowena stared at the face of Cecil Fredricks.  
  


"Sun's down, little lady," Reginald chuckled next to him.  
  


Cecil brushed his hands over the tablet as he stared at her. "Gus, tie her up will you."  
  


"No, hand it to me, Cecil!" She protested. "That doesn't belong to you."  
  


He shook his head. "No can do, Rowen,” Cecil said. “This tablet is worth a fortune, and without it: our retirement will be pointless."  
  


She was yanked down to her knees and she winced. Gus' face neared to her with a face that made her repulsed by it. He snarled back: "You fired us."  
  


Rowena breathed and spoke calmly as she could. "Yes. I did...but it was Richard's plan-"  
  


"And you agreed to it, meaning you equally wanted us to go." Cecil and her crossed gazes. He was still staring at her, with eyes that fixated not her face or eyes - but her neck.  
  


' _He knows what it is,_ ' Rowena realised.  
  


For once in years: Rowena felt the fear grow back.  
  


' _And he knows who I am._ '  
  


Those eyes she looked back were not the ones from a boy she met in the desert seventy years ago. They have seen things, things that were out of the normal life of a human. Rowena saw the eyes of a man who sought magic.  
  


Cecil knew she wasn't the person she said to be. And the only people who could have been the people who have been searching for her the entirety of her life.  
  


"Hey!"  
  


Just in front of the door were Larry and Nick. Rowena flicked her head towards them, her eyes trying to indicate to Larry what they were really here for. Larry then spotted her but didn't spot her hands tied back. Rowena squirmed before then pulled back against Gus' side.  
  


Cecil turned to him, and he grinned. "Oh Larry, we're just about to leave."  
  


"With the tablet?" Larry slowly said.  
  


"Of course. This is worth millions." The old man gestured to the artefact in his hand.  
  


Shaking his head, Larry argued. "The tablet doesn't belong to you; it belongs to the museum."  
  


"You try and tell your lovely friend that, maybe she'll really tell you something." As Cecil said those words, she immediately cut her breath short. He stepped closer to her; his head lowered down to wander over her chest as he muttered. "I always wanted this."  
  


"Let...me...go." Rowena gritted her teeth and violently pushed Cecil forward. However, she felt herself being pulled back, a surge of pain coming from her wrists.  
  


Larry's voice lowered and he snapped. "Hey, stop that. Rowen didn't do any wrong!" He pointed out. "You're the one stealing the tablet."  
  


She took a breath, as Cecil eerily smirked at her. He was taunting her, Rowena told herself. One thing for sure, he wanted to lose Larry's trust in her. And what better way was to tell him she was a liar.  
  


Cecil glanced down with a small smile on him. "Larry, do you know why she's kept you?"  
  


She heard a pause.  
  


"Yeah. Kinda…" Larry spoke carefully, trying to find answers in her face.  
  


Though, Rowena was too occupied. She loudly said, "Cecil, stop it. He doesn't know-"  
  


He let out a chuckle. Cecil gazed at her with a smirk. "Doesn't know eh? I would have been surprised if you told him about his grandfather."  
  


Two pairs of eyes faced her, and she somehow felt as if she had grown a second head. Even Gus and Reginald seemed bewildered by what Cecil was talking about. Cecil mentioning about Larry's grandfather was not what she expected and rushed back to bite her tongue. What was Cecil trying to tell her?  
  


"This is not their fight." She glared daggers at him. "Stop Cecil. Hand him the tablet, and you can take me-"  
  


Gus tugged her back as she tried to move forward. Her lips clamped shut, feeling the rope dig into her skin. Rowena couldn't help but release a groan.  
  


Nick quickly hid behind Larry, with a frightened look. He cried, "You're hurting her!"  
  


"We're only getting what is rightfully ours, right Gus?" Cecil turned to his companions, who followed out a laugh.  
  


Rowena glowered at him.  
  


"Folks like her don't deserve to live forever," Cecil explained. "We've been protecting this museum for decades. Making sure those animals aren't running around killing people."  
  


"They won't be killing people if you just let them out!" She bellowed.  
  


A shadow over loomed her. She titled her head upwards, her expression still placed on her face. He gently lifted a finger to her lips, shutting her lips closed. Rowena did the very thing she could do.  
  


"Hush now- Argh!"  
  


Cecil snatched his hand in a roar of pain. He looked at her in fury, wincing as he looked at his finger - slowly growing red with blood.  
  


Rowena internally smirked. She - a two hundred and thirty-year-old woman - bit the man's finger.  
  


"Larry, catch!"  
  


Though her actions were caught up, elbowing Gus from her back. He yelped and staggered backwards, letting her go. From there, the tablet clattered onto the floor and Rowena kicked it away from the men...right next to Larry's feet.  
  


However, Cecil quickly noticed what she did. He shoved her back, and Rowena was pushed back into Reginald's body. She felt arms tugging her back, even tighter than before. Kicking as she might, she hadn't noticed that it wasn't Larry who took the tablet into their arms.  
  


Right in the corner of the loading room was Nick, the golden artefact in his arms.  
  


A soft voice escaped Cecil's lips. "Get back right here son." He gestured his hand to him. "Give us the tablet."  
  


Larry then stared at his son. Speaking. "Nicky, turn it. Turn the tablet."  
  


Her heart stopped. Though before Rowena could scream a disagreement back - all she saw was a glowing light enveloping her.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry VIII  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

A low hum rumbled, and after a few seconds - he heard a loud roar from the museum.  
  


Several clatters of metal echoed from around them. The sound of a horn ripped through his ears, and Larry felt a cold pit form in his stomach. His eyes began to widen and met Nick's with awe rather than mortification.  
  


"Bad idea, Larry."  
  


Spinning around, he was faced with Cecil approaching him - a smile that didn't reach his eyes as Cecil tutted. There was a sense of falseness, as if all this time, Cecil had put a warmth facade to him for the past few days. And in reality, it seemed the old man and his friends were not what they looked to be. Cecil removed the fake demeanour into what Larry was supposed to see, and he could only see was the hungry eyes of a man wanting money.  
  


Larry shielded Nick behind him, glaring back.  
  


"Nick darling, run. Find Teddy." Rowen quickly spoke.  
  


Nick looked at him, and Larry nudged him away - running out of the room and into the museum. After that, he received an unimpressed expression from Cecil. But it wasn't what concerned him. Rowen stayed put, still trying to pull away but to no avail. Her hands seemed to be tied back, and Larry was faced with both Gus and Cecil in front of him.  
  


"You wanna dance, hot dog?" Gus took a step forward, both hands clenched into fists. He snarled back. "You wanna dance? "  
  


Larry awkwardly raised his, palms out wide. He slowly spoke, "Gus, you're an old man. I don't wanna hurt you."  
  


It seemed as if time had passed. And the moment Larry opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling. His hand cautiously touched his back as he groaned. Lifting himself up, he then felt a large weight land on him - making him cry out loud.  
  


"Larry!" He heard Rowen scream.  
  


He grunted and touched his face - feeling something wet on his lips and jaw. Before he could get up, a hand grabbed onto the collar of his jacket. Larry saw Cecil's face close to his as he dragged his head up.  
  


Cecil muttered to his ear. "You see, Larry, a few years into the job, the three of us realized that...Like everything else in this museum, we got new life at night." He paused. "Sundown to sunrise, we felt young again."  
  


"Okay. Did not see that coming." He muttered back.  
  


"Gave us an energy boost," Reginald added. He was tying another piece of rope on Rowen. When Larry tilted his head down, he spotted her legs kept together by something.  
  


His head was shoved down back onto the floor, hitting it hard. The world around him was becoming dizzy, and Larry forced himself to try and concentrate further onto Cecil's ramblings.  
  


"We love the nightlife, Larry. So, when we found out they were gonna fired us, we had to steal the tablet. Everyone knows you need the money." Cecil smirked. "Add the stuff we planted in your place: pretty obvious you committed the crime."  
  


The thought ran crossed his mind and he felt his stomach lurch. The three thought this through too well, well enough to plant it into the hands of himself. Larry Daley. He now knew why they seemed so willing to keep him, why Cecil reassured him that everything was going to get better. Of course, it would, because, in a span of a few days, they would rob the museum. And probably take Rowen too.  
  


Rowen, the woman who held so much hope for him - was now degraded to nothing but an object. A wave of anger rose in him as he watched Rowen kneel in front of them - her eyes throwing knives at the old men. But then a waft of confusion and betrayal entered Larry.  
  


What did Cecil mean? Were the things he said to him were true?  
  


And what did his grandfather had to do with Rowen?  
  


Reginald gestured to the other two. "Come on, guys, let's go find that kid."  
  


"Sweet dreams, cupcake!" Gus cackled.  
  


Larry shouted, and cried as he felt another pain on his side erupt. He rolled himself into a ball and tried to take deep breaths. He began to shut his eyes, though refrained from it. In the small corner of his sight, he spotted Rowen still being dragged away with them. Cecil's uninjured hand trying to grab the gold coin from her neck.  
  


"And I will take this-"  
  


Cecil shrieked once more. But to Larry's own shock, he saw that not only the necklace glowed: it had hissed. Smoke arose from where Rowen's necklace was. The old man relaxed his palm and Larry gaped at the sight.  
  


A dark round ashy print remained on the palm of Cecil's hand. It appeared to be burnt into his skin, as it cooled from the cold.  
  


"What did she do?" Reginald asked.  
  


He could only hear a small mutter from Rowen. "Oh dear, appears it doesn't want to be apart from me.”  
  


"Then you're coming with us." He saw Rowena pulled up, slung over Reginald's shoulder. Before he could crawl back up, the three had vanished into the building.  
  


Nick would run, but where?  
  


He stumbled slightly upwards, leaning against one of the boxes before taking a deep breath. He needed to get to his son first, though the dreaded feeling of watching Rowen had felt his chest tightened. With a swift move, Larry get up and sped back up to the museum.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

He swooped across the hallways, trying to find his son around the exhibits. There were exhibits roaming everywhere, laughing and shouting. His ears rung to the noise as he skidded around a corner of a bunch of squabbling monkeys. When he rushed up to pass the Egyptian exhibit, he saw a flicker in his eye a flash.  
  


Nick was caught surrounded by the three, clutching the tablet against his chest. Cecil snatched it with a quick motion, shoving his son against the pillar.  
  


As he ran towards them as they walked out, Cecil lifted his cane at him. Tripping over it, Larry yelped in shock and landed on his face. As he got up and turned, he was met by metal gates crashing onto his nose and the sound of clattering keys.  
  


He saw Rowen protesting, shaking her body vigorously as Reginald held her in place.  
  


Larry shouted. "Let go of her!" He rattled the bars. "She had nothing to do with this!"  
  


As much as he made a ruckus, the trio only looked at them with a wide grin before Cecil started: "Come on, we'll keep her at the back. Let's start taking things..."  
  


They then began to walk away, hearing the laughter grow as the turned around the corner.  
  


Reginald cackled. "We'll be in retirement for a whole lifetime..."  
  


Larry sighed, knowing well that they won't be coming back any time soon. No matter how he could try and budge the lock, it won't break so easily despite the age. He held his head against the gate with a heft sigh.  
  


"What are they gonna do with her, Dad?"  
  


He turned to the side, to find Nick's worried look at him.  
  


Larry replied, trying to maintain his confidence. He couldn't be afraid right now. Not when Nick was here.  
  


"I don't know, Nicky..." A thought crossed him, and he leaned out and shouted as loud as he could. "Teddy! Teddy!"  
  


In a few seconds, the clopping of hooves came.  
  


Teddy and Texas approached them, a surprising exclaim escaping his mouth. "Lawrence! You called-" The president's eyes then glanced to Larry's side. "Ah, I see you have your son. I am Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States of America."  
  


"Woah..." Nick breathed.  
  


There was a moment of silence as Larry observed the interaction. A wondrous and awestruck expression came from his son's face. Just moments before, Nick only saw what Teddy’s wax state was. But now, he was real.  
  


He cut the conversation and pleaded to Teddy. "Help us get out of here!" Larry continued. "Cecil, Gus and Reginald took Rowen and the tablet!"  
  


Teddy eyed him, with a grin. "No can-do Lawrence!” He declared, “This is your moment."  
  


"Will you screw your moments for one second! She's just been kidnapped!" Larry snapped. "...And I didn't build the Panama Canal, I wasn't President of the United States! I need some help. Come on!"  
  


Teddy's eyes softened, almost a pained expression in him. "Actually...I never did any of those things. Teddy Roosevelt did. I was made in a mannequin factory in Poughkeepsie. I never shot a wild beast." His eyes stared at Larry. "I'm not even brave enough to tell that beautiful woman I love her."  
  


He continued his speech further, pointing his hand to Larry. "But you...you got to finish the job this time. You can't quit." Teddy questioned him. "I'm made of wax, Larry. What are you made of?"  
  


"Wait! That's all you got for me? That's it!"  
  


"Uh...dad-"  
  


Tugged by the end of his sleeve, he glanced down to his son, whose face changed to fear. Larry's body turned, and he held his breath in shock as two large shadows began to encase them.  
  


The two jackal statues, spears aimed at them, walked towards them. They seemed to have noticed their presence once he rattled the cage before. He needed to get away with Nick before they skewer them.  
  


Larry's eyes then caught onto the roars from the end of the hall.  
  


The mummy.  
  


"Come on!" Larry grabbed Nick's hand and pulled him. "Duck!"  
  


Nick shouted as the sound of metal hit the stone floor. The slow stomps of the statues continued as they reached the end of the room. Telling his son to get away, Larry pulled over the glass lid. He yelled back as the lid rattled against the iron nails.  
  


One by one, he pulled the nails off. Larry quickly ran back to his son.  
  


"Dad..."  
  


"Stay back, Nicky!" Larry ordered his son and stretched his arm out.  
  


He pushed Nick behind him, feeling the cold pillar against him. Larry jumped in the spot, as a large slam of the lid flew towards the wall of the hall making a crackling noise. He clenched his flashlight tighter.  
  


A head slowly lifted from inside the sarcophagus, sitting upright. When the mummy's head slowly turned to him and Nick, Larry gulped down the wracking fear in his throat. It carefully got out, more like jumping out, and strode towards the two huge jackal statue. A loud command came from the mummy before it spun back to them and paused.  
  


Larry continued to stare back, flashlight in hand.  
  


It began to linger to him, groaning as its arms began to flail about. Larry quickly pushed Nick further to his side, trying to cut Nick away from the mummy. As their hands ripped off the wrappings, Larry heard a large hacking cough. Particles of dust hit his eyes, and his hands immediately shielded his eyes.  
  


Though, once Larry flickered his eyes open - he could not believe what he saw.  
  


Right in front of him, was not a mummy - but a man.  
  


The pharaoh bemoaned, "You won't believe how stuffy it is in there."  
  


This was not what Larry expected. He imagined a rotting corpse, wrapped in moulding bandages. He thought of how his skin would flake and bits and pieces of him would dangle apart as he moved.  
  


But to his shock and to a slight, a little bit relieved: Larry saw a young (and alive) man in front of him.  
  


Dark curly hair rested on top of his head as the pharaoh began pulling away the rest of the wrappings, coughing up what seemed to be dust on him. He then glanced his eyes away, pursing his lips - studying not him and his son, but the surroundings.  
  


Only Nick could cut the awkward and anticlimactic turnout. "You speak English?"  
  


"I went to Cambridge University." He calmly responded, walking around the room - gazing his eyes over the walls and pillars.  
  


Larry raised an eyebrow. "You went to Cambridge?"  
  


"I was part of the Egyptology department." The pharaoh explained. He gracefully turned around toward them and announced. "I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth kings. Once Ruler of Egypt."  
  


Ahkmenrah held a bold and majestic stature, looking at them like they were the ones that came to life. He felt the young man's eyes bore into his. Despite looking awfully young, they looked much older in appearance.  
  


His persona outwitted Larry so much, that he couldn't form a simple reply. "I am Larry Daley, son...of Mildred. And this is my son, Nick." Larry gestured to his son, who now stood by his side with curiosity. "We both hail from Brooklyn. Well, Nicky stays with me on weekends...that was the custody agreement..."  
  


Ahkmenrah furrowed his eyebrows at what he said but changed the subject. He smiled. "Larry, Nick. I am forever in your debt for releasing me." He began to move forward, a hand stretched out. "Now, bestow me my tablet so I can regain my rule."  
  


Ah… well.  
  


Larry trailed, "Right...well." He whistled. "You see...we don't have it."  
  


"The old guards took your tablet," Nick spoke.  
  


Larry tried to cut his son off. "Nick-"  
  


The pharaoh's eyes narrowed.  
  


But Nick continued, "And they took Rowen! She's our friend and they're trying to take her necklace from her."  
  


Ahkmenrah's figure relaxed, placing his arms down. He glanced over to Nick and then back to him, concentrating on him. Larry wasn't really sure what the pharaoh was doing. It was if he was analysing him, watching his features like a hawk.  
  


‘ _Not totally creepy at all…_ ’ Larry thought.  
  


The pharaoh nodded. "I see... And where are they now?" He asked. "And where are we exactly?"  
  


"Egyptian exhibit of a museum." Larry then answered back rashly. "Look. We're kind of stuck. Could you help us?"  
  


Ahkmenrah replied. "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things for parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4


	12. Uniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the last chapter, Larry doesn't realise how much his voice could hold the room as he tries to rally up the museum exhibits together to save their home. As for the Ahkmenrah, who has now been freed into the 21st Century: he meets an unexpected face. The same person who he saw fifty years ago. Will they be able to return the tablet and pendant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, good morning (it's past midnight so technically is morning, right?) and welcome back. Thank you so much for your patience and the kudos. And also the bookmarks! I'm so glad that this is really going well.
> 
> At the moment, I'm currently balancing three things at the same time. I have this story going on, plus a Fantastic Beasts ones on Wattpad (which is under the same name as my AO3) and my LoTR/Hobbit one which I'm currently editing the first chapters of. So updates will slow down slightly after this. Just a warning.
> 
> Warning for this chapter which I completely forgot in the previous one: there will be some mild violence. (To be honest I should be better at this).
> 
> Okay, enjoy! :)

** Larry IX  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

The only word to describe what Larry saw was definitely what Teddy would say - absolute anarchy.  
  


After Ahkmenrah helped them escape the Egyptian exhibit, asking the Jackal statues to throw one of the large engraved stones that sat idly in the corner at the bars - they headed to the main entrance.  
  


Larry knew that he was surely going to get told off for the damage, but that was far from his mind to this moment. Whilst he knew the night guards were still in the museum, the exhibits themselves did not seem to care what happened. Or heard the loud shattering sound of glass.  
  


Probably because all the exhibits were a little bit occupied.  
  


The whole lot was fighting...well most of them were.  
  


The civil war soldiers were on a full bloodbath, battling each other with bayonets at their necks. The wild animals were scaring the other quieter exhibits away whilst he spotted the cavemen chucking toilet rolls over the air. A large mammoth rampaged across the main hall, releasing and trumpet sound from its snout. Several birds flew and squawked and three of them ducked before it could bite their necks.  
  


Larry, Nick and Ahkmenrah made it to the balcony, halting himself with the railings. He tried to spot where the night guards were until he heard an ear raping noise from the other side of the building.  
  


Howling and crying, Attila and his Huns spotted them and charged.  
  


Ahkmenrah asked, "What is that?"  
  


"I got to deal with this," Larry muttered, and let go of the railings. He sped walk around until turning into a run.  
  


Attila's face was red with anger as he shouted in front of Larry's face. Larry, let out a battle cry as well. They two stopped in front of each other, beads of sweat forming in the Hun's forehead as he screamed in his native tongue. Larry didn't really know what he was saying, but still shouted back.  
  


Their shouting match continued until Larry could not think of anything else to say. His posture relaxed as he stuttered out the last gibberish he spoke. Attila glared at him with a vicious look.  
  


"Not to worry Larry, I speak Hun."  
  


Feeling a gently winds beside him, Larry heard Ahkmenrah speak as he glided between them.  
  


The pharaoh began conversing back to Attila, before hearing a reply. Most of the Hun's cried back.  
  


Ahkmenrah turned to Larry and translated back: "He wants to tear you apart."  
  


‘ _How does he know Hun-‘_ He paused. _‘Actually, no. I’ll ask later.’  
  
_

He wanted to sigh again. "Enough with the ripping." Larry pointed his finger to Attila. "And I think I know why. Someone ripped your heart from you, Attila."  
  


Tears sprung from the Hun's tear ducts, reflected by the light above them. Larry continued whispered into his ear as he embraced the larger man in his arms. Head on top of his shoulder, Larry sung a soft lullaby to calm him down.   
  


The man behind Attila stared at him, wavering lips and wide eyes. He mouthed back 'you're next' and the Hun nodded. Larry let go of Attila, who shook himself and awake - a grin forming onto his face. After a couple of cheering, Larry patted Attila and strode over to the balcony.   
  


He loudly spoke, "I need everybody to listen up! Guys!"  
  


However, the fighting continued, and it seemed that the noise levels kept getting higher.  
  


He exasperated, "Come on!"  
  


"Quiet!"  
  


The whole room froze as a deafening baritone voice echoed. Larry gaped at the Easter Island head with surprise. The whole museum could probably hear them. "My dum-dum wants to speak."  
  


After Larry thanked the statue, and he pointed at the pharaoh beside him. "Now, this here's King Ahkmenrah. His tablet is what brings you to life every night. And those old night watchmen? They stole it." He paused, hearing a murmur grow within them. "Now, we need to find those guards and get the tablet back - and we need to do it before morning."  
  


He glanced around, analysing the number of exhibits. There were some that would follow his orders and some who won't. The best thing he could do was start finding the night guards and rounding them up.  
  


"Civil War guys, head over to the Planetarium Wing." The soldiers saluted to him before he eyed the metal man with a gesture. "My explorer friend whose name escapes me."  
  


His son whispered beside him. "It's Columbus."  
  


"Right, Columbus! Right, I'm sorry. There's no nameplate, so...Columbus, take the Neanderthals......and do a sweep from invertebrates all the way through Reptiles." The Italian explorer bowed whilst the Neanderthals howled in excitement. "Jed and Octavius, their van's parked outback. Go take care of it."  
  


The cowboy immediately protested. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, no!" He shoved his thumb, pointing at the man next to him. "No, sir. I ain't working with toga boy!"  
  


Octavius let out a pompous humph. "Romans work alone-" He let out a shriek as Jedediah smacked him with his handgun.  
  


"That didn't hurt. Don't be a baby-" Jedediah taunted but was reduced to a scream as he held his arm. "Come on! That was much harder! "  
  


Larry suddenly stopped the two before they could start fighting again and shouted: "Guys, come on! Jed, Octavius." The two shuffled away, glaring at each other. "Take away the fact you were born two thousand years apart: you guys aren't that different. You're _both_ great leaders. You just want what's best for your people, right?"  
  


They stayed silent and contemplated. He then turned to the faceless men.  
  


"Civil War dudes. You guys are brothers, for God's sakes. You got to stop fighting." He saw them look down at the floor. "North wins. Slavery's bad. Sorry. Don't wanna burst your bubble. But, South, you guys get Allman Brothers....and NASCAR, so just chill!"  
  


When Larry gazed around the quiet room, he felt his face warm up slightly. Never would he have imagined this ever in his life. Dozens of faces aimed at him; they were listening to him. For once, Larry felt hopeful.  
  


He saw Teddy's face beam at him - pride painted right on him.  
  


Larry breathed and continued. "Look, without that tablet, _all_ of this...this whole coming-to-life-at-night thing, it all goes away. Now, I don't wanna let that happen, but I need your help. We can get this done, but we got to do it together. So, who's with me?"  
  


There were some small murmurs and nods.  
  


Larry raised his voice and pumped his fist into the air. "Who's with me?"  
  


The room roared with cheers and howls. The growls of lions and tigers and the ecstatic roar from Rexy. Larry panted, forcing out a laugh. At his sight, he saw his son stare at him. Not in shock or disappointment - but awe.  
  


Then, the search began.   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Cecil I  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

"So, explain. Why do we need her again?"  
  


Cecil looked over to his shoulder and eyed Reginald. He had an incredulous expression, gesturing to the person who was sat on the wooden bench. They had tightened her up, both her arms, wrists, ankles and legs were bound by rope. Wrapped over her mouth was a cloth, shutting her silence as they wandered the museum.  
  


None of the exhibits were around, probably too occupied in their little world they made. Cecil scoffed to himself. They were such weak things, which was assisted by years of oppression and neglect. He couldn't care less about what they thought; they were objects, not people. These _things_ wouldn't understand what it was like to live, to be alive and to feel the struggle of life.  
  


Though even then, he could not care at all on the turnout of the museum. That was why he chose him - Larry Daley.  
  


When he first met him, Cecil saw a man who was just desperate to find a job and get money. Naive and innocent, no ounce in Larry appeared too threatening to their cause.  
  


But the woman with them - Rowen Bates – she was the big issue. She prevented them from simply doing their mission as smoothly as possible.  
  


For one thing, the young woman was too suspicious and curious for her own good. Their first meeting didn't even go very well, as Cecil was reminded by the very woman that took care of him those years back.   
  


However, at first, he assumed it was one of her descendants. News of his father's co-worker’s death during the second world war cleared off any aspects of any offspring as a possibility. But then he remembered how Emilia Darcy's twin sister lived, Joanna Darcy, and took all the work and effort from her own family's hands. The woman married, changing her name to Bates.  
  


Cecil's hatred blinded him from the truth, but just on time to realise who she was.  
  


He explained out loud, pointing at the necklace around Rowen's neck. "Well, dear friends, she's our ticket to immortality." Cecil's eyes glimmered over the gold pendant. "The eye of Horus is a key. There are only a few of these artefacts left in the world. So, once we get everything, we'll head to Egypt."  
  


A muffled scream came from her mouth.  
  


He quickly shut her up as he spoke. "Please save your voice, Rowen." He leaned down and stared at her. "Or should I call you by your real name, Emilia Darcy?"  
  


Pupils widened; Rowen froze.  
  


He was right all along.  
  


A smirk appeared on his lips. "Oh, surprised that I still remember. Fifty years with the Tablet kept me remembering exactly this. Now...Now I know what they meant about you." He continued with a soft murmur. " _The Wadjet Keyholder_. The shadow that walked through time.”  
  


Her eyes stayed fixated on him.  
  


“Sadly, I don't think you'll be walking on this earth any time soon." Cecil softly said.  
  


He lifted his hand and studied the dark burn now branded on the palm of his hand. It was a distinct tattoo of the eye of Horus. When he prodded it with his fingers, Cecil winced. He thought that this was an easy feat. They were wrong.  
  


He felt his anger return and he calmly replied. "You will give me that pendant whether you wear it on your neck or not."   
  


Rowen's eyes flared with rage and he couldn't help but chuckle back. ' _Of course, I won't share it. And why give it to them...when I could have it all for my own.'  
  
  
_

**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The moment it began to go wrong, was when Cecil heard the angry cries of animals and the stampede of running men. He quickly tossed Rowen over his shoulder, ignoring the woman's spasms.   
  


He ran down the corridor, trying not to be spotted by anyone. Even if the tablet in his hands kept his body preserved as a healthy younger body, his bones still ached and his mind to make himself carry on was wavering. But he couldn't stop. Not when already had both two of the most powerful sources of magic possessed.   
  


He told Gus and Reginald to split up and head back to the loading dock. But once he arrived, the large doors opened wide: they were not there. Cecil snarled inside and tutted to himself.  
  


' _Fine, I guess I'll do it myself._ ' Even if they worked together for decades, the two did not know how significant it really was.  
  


To Cecil, it wasn't about the money from a 24-carat gold artefact. It was something more.   
  


Hopping into the van, he shoved Rowen to the seat beside him and started shuffled his pockets to find the keys. Once he found them, he tried to start the car - but to no avail. The cold probably stopped the engine from starting. He growled and continued, twisting the keys at such a vigorous motion.   
  


Finally, the engine started, and his feet slammed onto the pedal. He held onto the steering wheel, freezing to realise the van turning at an abnormal angle. Cecil heard a scream and turned to find Rowen, cloth hanging from her neck.  
  


"Stop! You'll crash!"  
  


There wasn't enough time. And suddenly, he felt himself surge forwards with a grunt. The van stopped, hitting a large pile of ice and snow. He could hear a high-pitch sound ring in his ears as he pushed himself up and clambered out of the door.   
  


He fell onto the snow, with trembling legs. Cecil took his time to adjust, holding his head in pain. The smell of smoke and fuel filled the air as he trudged around. When he made it to the other side, he spotted the woman beginning to crawl out. How she already got out of her bounds was fast, but not fast enough for Cecil to shove her down to the grown.  
  


Rowen let out a groan, shutting her eyes as she gritted her teeth. When Cecil took her by the side of her arms, she tried to kick him back, but he quickly groped her neck.  
  


She began to choke, gasping for air. "Let...go...of...me!"  
  


Cecil glared back and eyed the pendant on her. With careful hands, he untied the clasp, letting it fall onto the floor. His knee lifted, hitting her square in the stomach before her body crumpled onto the floor.   
  


He muttered. "I'll take that." He picked up the pendant with the cloth, wrapping it before putting it into his pocket. With tablet in hand, he stared at the unconscious woman. A small tint in his chest pricked his heart, forcing him to ignore the pain.  
  


He could still remember the last thing she said to him before he and his father left for the Americas.  
  


_“C.J.” She bent down to look at him at eye-level. “You have a good heart, my boy. Just remember this: you don’t have to follow the expectations of the world.”  
  
_

_He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said, “I will, Lady Emilia.” C.J said. “I promise you.”  
  
_

He did do what she wished for him to bring…But perhaps in the wrong side of morality. ‘ _Morals, immortals don’t think of morals._ ’ He reminded himself.  
  


Cecil cannot think about the past. Now that he had both: he needed to flee. Fast.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah I  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City  
  
_ **

At the time when he got out of his sarcophagus, everything seemed too fast for him. His awakening was brought by two unknown faces, one was a man whilst the other was a small boy. They both seemed to be terrified of him when he got out, though surprisingly not as paled from his groaning and shouting he presumed.  
  


He introduced himself to the two, alongside his title and his request to have his tablet back. Though at the expense, Ahkmenrah regretted making a big scene.  
  


‘ _Joanna would’ve rolled her eyes and glare at me for making it dramatic,_ ’ He thought, and a mixed feeling of anger and nostalgia made his stomach churn.  
  


But that quickly was at the back of his mind when Larry Daley told him that the tablet was stolen. A flicker of concern and resentment rumbled beneath him but was cut short when the boy - Nick Daley - told him that the three nightguards stole the tablet and kidnapped their friend.  
  


Their friend seemed more important to them than the Tablet, and he could understand slightly. Ahkmenrah eventually agreed, and they were now outside what seemed to be a large building of some sorts. It wasn't like Cambridge, with the grey stone walls and dark wooden beams. It was brighter, brimmed with lights and colourful displays. A museum.  
  


The Museum he has never been able to see.  
  


Larry Daley's bold and inspiring speech made him smile quietly before the rest of the inhabitants of the museum worked together to help defend their home. It reminded him of the stories which Joanna used to tell him about her friends. A man with a similar name to the Guardian of Brooklyn used to pop up in her tales, speaking about his bold and selfless acts.  
  


Anyhow, he followed Nick and Larry around, his clothes unfit for the rush.   
  


However, Ahkmenrah felt free. Over fifty years stuck in his sarcophagus and he took a while adjusting to his legs, enabling him to walk around let alone run. They took the stairs to the Diorama room, only there to find two men bound by rope. They were shouting and screaming at Larry before they told them that the third guard must have escaped.  
  


“Where did they go?” Larry questioned the dark-skinned man.  
  


He replied, “Oh hell if I know.” He calmly added, “Bastard did this on purpose.”  
  


Gus angrily barked, “That crazy bat thought she’s the key or something!”  
  


Ahkmenrah creased his eyebrows and looked over at a pondering night guard. With a heavy sigh, Larry gestured for them to carry on.  
  


Another few minutes of chasing and they arrived at a large dimly lit room. There were shelves of boxes and crates, and a metal box of golden artefacts - all from his exhibit. He then felt a gust flow over his arm and up to his neck. Ahkmenrah shivered.  
  


He turned, finding the two large metal doors wide open. Snow-covered the landscape outside and Larry muttered out something.  
  


"They left." Larry Daley spoke.  
  


He asked out loud. "Where?" Ahkmenrah could spot the distance, a whole row range of trees scattering the land. This place seemed much larger than Cambridge. The night guard could have escaped already, alongside their friend.  
  


Patting his shoulder, Ahkmenrah was told to follow the man and his son once more. They arrived in an open hall, a large glass case. Behind was a woman, who dodged the oncoming ball Larry threw. He winced at the sound of shattering glass, and when Ahkmenrah opened his eyes he spotted her exit.  
  


Larry then asked if the woman could track the night guard and his friend, and she nodded. Their eyes then met his, and he tilted his head. Larry gestured to each other. "Sacajawea, Ahkmenrah."  
  


He blinked and referred. "Actually, it's Ahkmenrah." The man's pronunciation of his name was not entirely perfect, but it was a good attempt. ' _Joanna's pronunciation is much better,_ ' Ahkmenrah thought to himself.  
  


"All right." Larry nodded.  
  


The woman in front of him then inquired. "And it's _Sacagawea_."   
  


Larry huffed back. "We don't have time.” He said, “Tablet and Rowen."  
  


He fell back in step with Larry, glancing next to him. The woman in beige clothes gave him a small smile and he returned the gesture. Sacagawea seemed like a polite and kind woman, it reminded him of some of the maids his mother used to have during their afternoon meetings.  
  


They arrived back to where they last saw the tracks of tyres and snow. He could feel the cold on his feet, between the thin soles of his sandals. Ahkmenrah never felt so cold in life, and the winters in Cambridge were less cold than this. But he ignored it and kept his eyes at the task.   
  


“They lost control just a few leagues from…”  
  


Sacagawea knelt onto the snowy track and felt the snow with the palms of her hands. She began to explain that the night guard had tried to escape in haste with his tablet and Larry's friend but then crashed. She then pointed in the distance.  
  


Just by a large snow pile was a dark object with wheels. Smoke was coming from the front of it. However, whilst Sacajawea continued investigating, Ahkmenrah saw something move by the large object. It was small motion, following by a ragged cough.  
  


With peering eyes, he carefully approached the object. As he got closer, he noticed that it was not an object moved by the wind. It was a person. He felt his legs pull him closer to the figure until he noticed their chest raise. They were alive, this must be Rowen.  
  


"Ahkmenrah?" He heard Larry call out, but he muted his voice in his ears.  
  


Kneeling by the snow, Ahkmenrah quickly brushed away the snow that fell on their head. His mind began to analyse the person. They were small, with long hair tied back with strands across their faces. He then turned their head to face up.  
  


Ahkmenrah's hand fell limp, and jaw grew loose.  
  


Right on the snow was the very woman he knew.  
  


"Joanna." He whispered, trying to swallow back the bile.  
  


He couldn't believe it, both to the gods and above. She was here, and she was freezing.  
  


Ahkmenrah quickly removed all the snow from her body and cradled her body in his arms. He placed his cloak around her body. He couldn't care less how much he shivered; his friend looked worse for wear.  
  


She stuttered out in a whisper. "Cold...cold." Her eyes were clenched shut, trying to curl up and warm herself with his own. He tried to hug her tighter, but he wasn't sure what else to do.  
  


At the sound of crunching snow, Ahkmenrah saw Larry, Sacajawea and Nick glance at him and Joanna.  
  


Larry lowered himself, putting his hand over her forehead. He exclaimed. "Rowen! Jesus, you're blue. Rowen? Can you hear me?"   
  


Ahkmenrah felt his heart race and the feeling of nausea grow from his insides. This wasn't what he wanted to wake up to, to see his long-lost friend in pain. He wanted to tell them, tell Larry to get a healer or take her inside - but he couldn't move. So many emotions were filling Ahkmenrah up that he couldn't bear it.  
  


His eyes then flicked back to her face, as he heard soft groans coming from her lips. She furrowed her eyebrows and coughed loudly - leaning to the side.  
  


Golden brown shining eyes then met his.  
  


"Ahkmenrah..." She breathed.  
  


He sighed, and a sincere smile crept up his face. She moved back slightly off him, sitting upright in shock.  
  


With a soft murmur, he spoke. "Hello, Joanna." He then pressed a hand onto her own and frowned. "You're freezing."  
  


She stared at him. Assuming she only felt lightheaded and too shocked, he watched her glance to the rest. Larry then asked what happened to her. Joanna explained with short breaths that the night guard, known as Cecil, decided to run without the other two with her and the tablet but something went wrong. She didn't know what happened next for that Joanna was knocked out unconscious.  


Ahkmenrah spotted her look up to Larry, who rubbed his temples.  
  


Joanna said, "The tablet...he has my pendant."  
  


"I know, Rowen." Larry extended his arms and gave her a concerned glance. "Can you stand up?"  
  


He helped her get onto her feet, dusting the snow off his clothes. Ahkmenrah still couldn't let his eyes off her, a nudging feeling that she would immediately fall if she took a step. Her eyes never left him too, wide-eyed and lips parted. She had not changed at all, perhaps the clothes and the hair but it was still Joanna. _His Joanna…  
  
_

Tears sprung from her eyes and he rushed to grab her shoulders. She shut her eyes, stifling a snort. Joanna began, "Oh gods, I'm so-" She cut herself short, wiping her nose from the back of her hand.  
  


Ahkmenrah took his time to let her calm down. He wasn't sure what to think. When his mind reverted on the last memories of her, he remembered what happened. The night he left Cambridge to go to a strange new place, which seemed to be here. It was too blurry in his head, too consumed by his sadness and anger. Some at her, but mostly at the fates.  
  


He should be angry. No: furious.  
  


Fifty-four years stuck in his own death bed and he couldn't even go to the Field of Reeds. He was awake every night, filled only by darkness and the growing layer of dust. Ahkmenrah had the right to hate Joanna Bates.  
  


Though inside, a thought crossed him.  
  


Instead, he brushed his hands over her shoulder. "It's alright. Don't cry for me." He whispered. "It wasn't your fault." He let go of her, and she stepped back.  
  


Once she calmed herself down, Joanna wandered her eyes around them. "I know...it's..." She started, but he quickly interrupted.  
  


"Did he hurt you?" A flare of anger fluttered in his chest, concerned with her health.  
  


Joanna shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I should stop crying."  
  


Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer to her. He inspected her neck and saw a part of it appear slightly purple and blue.   
  


After a bothered glance at her, she waved it off. "Well, I've had worse."  
  


He didn't believe her. "Joanna."  
  


She gave him a tired smile. "It's Rowen now." She rubbed the small patch on her neck for a bit. He couldn't help but want to tell her to go back inside and rest. However, he knew Joanna too well - and remembered how stubborn the woman was.  
  


"Get out of the away!"  
  


Ahkmenrah turned back, spotting a dark shadow overlook. Sprouting from the museum, six dark horses ran past. And carrying with them was the last night guard...with the tablet. As the horses galloped through, his eyes widened when he spotted Sacajawea right on its path.  
  


In a short span of seconds, almost like a ghost - a figure moved across the horse and carriage's path. He gaped in shock when he realised it wasn't his imagination. An actual man tossed himself and shoved Sacajawea from being hurt.  
  


Joanna raced first, alongside Larry. He jogged towards them and couldn't speak. The man had split apart, right from the hips in two.  
  


Larry questioned him. "Teddy! You okay, man?"  
  


"Never felt any better, my boy." The older man, with a large moustache, glanced up, eyes watering and shallow breaths.   
  


Joanna knelt by the man and said in a rush tone. "Teddy. We need to move you inside."  
  


The man called Teddy waved her off. "I'm fine, my dear girl." He gave them a stern gaze. "Lawrence, Rowen. It's your moment. You must save the museum."  
  


Joanna nodded and stood up. He watched her stay silent, a look that he was familiar with whenever she was thinking something.  
  


But she was cut from her thoughts when Larry said. "Rowen, uh, he escaped. What do we do?" He glanced off to the far distance, where the trees were.   
  


Her hands fell to her hips. "He's probably already across Central Park." A worried look crossed Joanna and her eyes fell to Larry and him. "How are we gonna get to him?"  
  


When Nick tugged his father's sleeve. He felt the ground under his feet rumble. A small shiny object rolled over the snow, similar to the one Joanna was lying by. When he peered down, he noticed two figures sat in the front seat.   
  


"Gigantor, Gigantress," Jedediah smirked. "Thought you'd need a ride."  
  


The large bony creature roared as it appeared out from the museum. He couldn't help but gasp in awe. Ahkmenrah had never seen something so large, and slightly dangerous. He had seen his jackals and remembered the terrifying hippopotamuses living on the banks of the Nile. But this, this was completely different.  
  


He caught Joanna's grin, which he copied back as an instinct. He noticed the young boy look up in admiration, before looking back at Larry.   
  


Larry face lit up, and he told them: "Take Rexy, Nick, Ahk and Rowen. I'll take Texas." Ahkmenrah watched the man hop onto the saddle of the horse and galloped off to the direction the night guard went.  
  


He felt like he was living as a child once more when he propped Nick and Joanna on before he too got on. Once the small automobile sped, bone tied on a rope - Ahkmenrah grabbed whatever he could cling onto and yelped.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

They ran through the avenue of trees. Chasing Larry who was on Texas, Ahkmenrah held himself close. There wasn't a saddle on the large skeletal creature and resorted to using a large coat over its back. Nick hooted in joy, and he couldn't help but grin as well.   
  


Joanna kept her arms wrapped over Nick, who held firmly onto the back of the creature's skull. He then noticed that the horses had stopped, and a figure flying across the air. They then halted, getting off quickly. He picked up Nick and placed him down before helping Joanna down once more.  
  


There, in a pile of snow, was the thief. He glared at the old man as Larry took the tablet off his hands. When he noticed several howls of voices, Attila and his Hun's grabbed picked up the old night guard by the arms.  
  


Larry said to him. "Tell him to take him back and tie him up with the rest of the night guards." Ahkmenrah obliged and translated the sentence to the warrior.  
  


Attila spoke in Hun, "Can we pull him?" The large man looked at Larry, gesturing his hands apart.  
  


The Guardian of Brooklyn turned to him to translate, and so he did. "He's asking if they can pull him?"  
  


Larry shook his hand and tutted, "No, no. No ripping."  
  


Attila placed his thumb and index finger closer, and his eyes stared at Larry with hope in them. "Tiny bit?" He asked again.  
  


Just a tiny bit.  
  


"Hey, what did he say? What did you say! Where are you taking me-"  
  


As the night guard was dragged and carried back to the museum, Joanna picked up his golden tablet from the ground. She brushed off the snow before looking at him.  
  


Joanna softly spoke. "I think...this belongs to you."   
  


Passing it onto his hands, he gazed down at it. He could feel a surge of warmth flow through his hands from the Tablet and into his body. In his mind, it seemed to be humming - the Tablet glad to be returned to its original owner. "Thank you, Jo-Rowen." He softly spoke. "It's going to be while to get used to calling you that."  
  


Joanna - now Rowen in his head - turned around. She asked if Nick was cold and the child shook his head. Larry approached him and Rowen, whose eyes widened with surprise. Ahkmenrah than noticed why.  
  


"And I believe this is yours," Larry said. On his hand, was Rowen's pendant.  
  


The pendant.  
  


Mentally, Ahkmenrah silently let out a startled expression. Not an inch of a second did the eye of Horus burned the Guardian of Brooklyn's skin.  
  


He could not help but blurt out. "Larry...you can hold it?"  
  


Larry raised his eyebrows, and in a stuttering voice: "What? What's wrong? Is that good? Cecil's hand kind of burned when he held it."  
  


Rowen's eyes caught his own, and he raised an eyebrow back. Instead of his usual self of explaining things to others, he stayed silent. He knew it wasn't his right to speak of the pendant’s true powers. It was a sensitive topic, and he didn't know how close Larry and Rowen really were. Or even if Larry Daley knew of Rowen's condition.  
  


His friend shook her head. "Nothing. Another time."  
  


Larry passed the pendant to Rowen carefully, rubbing his palms together. She placed it back around her neck.  
  


"Sunrise is coming, Dad. And the whole museum's out in Central Park."  
  


Nick then interrupted them. Pointing his finger up to the sky, Ahkmenrah could see the small inches of light slowly rising from the silhouette of buildings. He held back a gasp, and his heart fluttered. And then the thought crossed him. Ahkmenrah won't ever see the sun ever again. Or never had for thousands of years.  
  


He was then cut from his thought whilst Larry stepped to him. "Ahkmenrah, you know the Tablet more than I do. Do you know how to send everyone back?" He questioned.  
  


Ahkmenrah nodded. "I do."  
  


He felt the Tablet link to him in his mind, a warm blanket enveloping him. Letting out a bold sound, Ahkmenrah spoke out in his native language. The Tablet compelled to his order, beginning to glow in his palms. He glanced back up, finding their faces stare in awe.  
  


Ahkmenrah returned the gesture, not helping to crack a grin. Once it stopped glowing, he thanked the tablet in his head. The sound of ruffling trees and branches filled his ears, and his eyes saw the movement of animals - all walking back to the direction they came from.  
  


' _It seemed the tablet did more than just bring my family to life,_ ' Ahkmenrah thought to himself.  
  


He never thought that even non-sentient beings could be brought back to life. He might have to consult with Larry and Rowen, but even the two seemed quite at awe of the exhibits following the orders of his tablet.  
  


Before he hopped back onto Rexy, he couldn't help but stare back at the glowing sky. An empty pit in his stomach made him sense the pain and nostalgia. At least now, he was awake again - and perhaps will never be trapped in his sarcophagus. Larry Daley was the new night guard that let him out, but only to help return his tablet back. Would he let him out?  
  


"Ahk." He turned to the voice, who had been Rowen. She had a forlorn look, yet kept her lips raised. "Are you alright?"  
  


There it was again. A trill in his chest as he glanced over to his friend.  
  


He hummed and nodded. "Of course, I am - Guardian of Cambridge. Let us return."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Currently tidying some things before we tackle parts 3 and 4.


	13. A Great Man and A Just Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the third night at the museum, Ahkmenrah and Rowena meet again for the first time in fifty years. However, tension seems to rise between the two as they navigate their feelings of when the king was forced to an unknown place.
> 
> Whilst this occurs, a familiar face arrives at the museum and finally believes the truth about the tablet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update night! And also...thank you for the kudos! I don't imagine getting this much for such a tiny fandom in all honesty. (It's my first proper story on AO3 so bare my excitement). 
> 
> Anyways, part 1 of this story is almost over and I'm just a third way through writing part 2. Maybe updates might slow down so I could catch up with writing and editing. Depends on my 'outside world' stuff.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy and have a lovely day/evening/night. :)

** Rowena XII  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

They returned to the museum, with half an hour left until sunrise. Rowena hid back the pain in her arms and neck, making sure her posture didn't slump as much. She learned using a corset for many years, the worse contraption anyone could use, and her body grew accustomed to sitting or standing straight with and without them. That was when Ahkmenrah found her, standing idly by the front doors – clipboard in hand.  
  


For a few minutes, they stood by in silence, watching the rest of the museum exhibits file through the revolving doors. Her eyes were trained in front of her, a warm uncomfortable feeling in her cheeks whenever she noticed his presence. He too seemed to gaze away, but once she saw the former president approaching her – Rowena couldn't help but move her head to the side.  
  


A grin formed on her face, seeing Teddy now walking whole again. Teddy beamed back, gesturing at his torso. "Well, thank Sacagawea and a little hot wax and I'm a new man!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "You seem well, Rowen."  
  


Rowena smiled, hiding back the pain on her neck. Her hand subconsciously touched it, feeling it swollen at her touch. "I'm well. Just a bit bruised, nothing more."  
  


"And glad that you are out of that stone box, your majesty." The president calmed down his cheeriness, eyeing the pharaoh across her with a sincere look.  
  


Ahkmenrah replied politely, "No need to call me that, you may call me Ahkmenrah." In his voice, he seemed to hesitate slightly, before calling out in a confident tone. She glanced over to him, tapping her pen against the clipboard.  
  


Teddy saluted and held out his hand. When Ahkmenrah immediately followed suit and shook it. Inside, Rowena felt a little bit proud for him remembering the modern gesture. She taught him when they first met after he kept bowing to her whenever he woke up in the evenings. Though, she couldn’t deny it was hard to knock out old habits, especially when it came to propriety and common gestures.  
  


"I'm Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States of America, but you may call me Teddy." He introduced himself.  
  


"Pleasure to meet you." Ahkmenrah let out a small smile, and she quickly averted her eyes back to the main doors. She was glad that the two quickly got on well, despite what happened for fifty years. Rowena saw the pain and guilt painted on the president's eyes when Ahkmenrah crossed gazes with him.  
  


However, what the guilt Teddy had on Ahkmenrah couldn't match what hers. She had burst into tears when she met him for the first time after he left – awfully embarrassed at the situation. She scolded herself for being so petty and meek. Rowena didn't need any shining knights or soldiers saving her and being cradled into their arms. For the last fifty-four years, she suppressed those thoughts of guilt and tried to place them in the back of her mind. Now it was biting her back, the karma she deserved.  
  


Now, why was she feeling it again?  
  


Rowena's thoughts were cut when she realised a human figure enter the museum. Dressed in a dark coat scarf and boot, Rebecca Hutman arrived with wide eyes and jaw low. She quickly strode towards her friend, realising that Larry had entered the main hall as well and noticed her.  
  


When the three met, Rebecca was the first one to stutter out: "Larry? Rowen? I..."  
  


The night guard next to her grinned, "I told you, I wasn't making fun of you."  
  


Rowena stayed quiet, letting Rebecca immerse herself in her surroundings. An alpaca trotted past her, sniffing her coat before being pulled away by its herder. She looked at both of them. She answered, "I know." Rebecca then seemed to glance her eyes to the side, hand carefully covering her mouth. "Oh, my God."  
  


Walking over to Teddy, Sacagawea presented the president's rifle to him.   
  


Rowena's head turned back to Rebecca and she gave a sly grin to her friend. There was more to Rebecca than just a docent for the museum, having taken years only one dissertation about the famous Native American woman. That was what made her respect Rebecca a little more than needed. And the expression of awestruck on her face reminded her of a child meeting their hero for the first time.  
  


Larry kept a smile on his face when he asked Rebecca. "Wanna meet her?"  
  


"...Yeah." Rebecca's head shook fast, and Larry guided her to them. Rowena stood back; arms wrapped around herself with the clipboard by her chest.  
  


"Yeah. Okay, come on." When Teddy and Sacagawea caught them approaching, Larry gestured his hand. "Excuse me. President Roosevelt, this is our friend Rebecca."  
  


They exchanged greetings, Rebecca trying to hide her excitement from exploding from her mouth. Larry then gestured to the Native American figure and spoke: "And this is Sacagawea." He smiled, a twinkling sparkle in his eyes that Rowena identified. "I think she has a few questions she wants to ask you."  
  


Rebecca exclaimed out is eagerness, "You rock! I am a big fan!"  
  


A short cough came from next to her. Rowena glanced across, finding Ahkmenrah spectate the conversation. When he caught her looking with amusement, she quickly looked away.  
  


Sacagawea gave a kind beam and replied. "What would you like to know?"  
  


"Well, I mean, I don't know where to start, but..." Rebecca and Sacagawea went off, giving her friend some time to discuss and ask some things with her idol. When the two left, Larry went over to her and Ahkmenrah and told her that he would check on the exhibits entering the back of the museum.  
  


Rowena agreed, suggesting bringing Teddy and Nick with him to help out. Once the three said their farewells, she was left at the mercy of silence with the pharaoh. It was an awkward five minutes, ticking off the list in her hand. Once she noticed the sky becoming lighter, Rowena turned to her side, surprised to see Ahkmenrah still standing next to her - Tablet in hand.  
  


When she asked him if she could walk him down to his exhibits, Ahkmenrah agreed. Their walk down the hallways of the museum was quiet, letting the sound of his jewellery jingle about whilst her trainers still squeaked, rubbing against the floor.  
  


During their walk, Ahkmenrah wondered out loud: "This isn't something I expected my tablet to do." He continued, "It must have been a surprise for you when you found out."  
  


Despite Ahkmenrah's unusual chirping, all she could whirl in her head were the growing troubling thoughts and questions. Her chest became heavier and heavier as they walked longer until she couldn't hold it anymore.  
  


“Why don't you hate me?" Rowena suddenly blurted out.  
  


He stopped in his tracks and turned. There was a confused expression forming on his face, furrowed eyebrows and thinned lips.  
  


They stood there, a few metres apart - continuing to stare at each other. She wasn't sure if she needed to explain herself the reason why she asked. The moment Ahkmenrah and her gazes met, she could see the mixed emotions of hurt and pain.  
  


She thought it would just be like fifty years ago when the same man learned of what was to become of him. Betrayed, angry. A memory of his sonorous voice echoed in her mind of the time she told Ahkmenrah that he would be sent away to New York. The anguishing cries of a man that would not only lose his own family - but would then lose his freedom.  
  


And he would not even know that it would become true.  
  


Instead, Ahkmenrah gave her an incredulous gaze. "Why would I?" He asked quietly.  
  


As he approached her, she gritted her teeth behind her lips, trying to remove the annoyance filling her head. She let out a short breath and told him stonily. "You know why." Rowena continued, but never looked away from him. In a whisper, she said. "It was my fault this happened."  
  


Hardened eyes softened slightly, and the king somehow analysed what she said quickly. She let out a ragged breath before she felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, and Ahkmenrah tilted his head down.  
  


"Rowen, fifty-four years ago, I said to you that I was prepared to know the unknown. I've always had." He spoke softly. "I...I will _not_ forgive those night guards who kept me there, but the time will come when I forgive Teddy."  
  


She watched him purse his lips to a thin line.  
  


Ahkmenrah kept staring at her, as he murmured. "As for you...I'm not sure.” He licked his lips. “But I don't wish to harm you or shout at you. I...I'm not sure if ‘hate’ will be the right word to convey this all."  
  


Rowena retorted back, "It's easy to hear that than to accept it." The words did not lift her spirits as much, but it kept her from eyes watering. She’s held it for almost several hours now, she could use a night of no tears.  
  


With a careful hand, he graced it down to her own and held her palms. Rowena glanced down, his hand engulfing hers, before seeing his lips curl upwards wryly. "We have time," Ahkmenrah assured.  
  


All she did was a hum in agreement, not wanting to pressure him anymore. Even though Rowena doubted his kind words, there was some honesty in them. How he would take time to forgive Teddy was understandable. But to forgive her own doing, made her gulp at the unknown.  
  


They travelled back to the ruined entrance of the Egyptian exhibit, and Rowena was taken back to reality. Richard would not be happy to see this and would cost the museum more than they could afford right now. And she wasn't sure how willing the board of governors would let her offer her own money to rebuild the exhibit.  
  


In a swift moment, he placed the Tablet back onto the display. There was a little moment that Rowena felt slightly relieved. At least one thing turned better tonight. The Tablet was back where it was supposed to be. He stood there for a quick moment, closing his eyes with a gentle sigh.  
  


Ahkmenrah finally made it next to his sarcophagus, sensing a wave of panic which Rowena spotted too clearly in the dark. ' _He's scared to be trapped again_.' Rowena thought sadly and resisted the urge to tell him he could sleep outside.  
  


But this wasn't Cambridge, nor was it a secluded area to allow a four-thousand-year-old mummy to sleep in the open air. Their faces crossed and she gave an apologetic look.  
  


Ahkmenrah gulped, "Will you be here? When I wake up?"  
  


Her heart cracked at the meek tone of his voice. Rowena nodded. "As many times as you want me to."  
  


He picked up his wrappings and began doing them again. Once he was done, Rowena checked the clock and knew it was time. Ahkmenrah smiled and spoke. "Good morning, Rowen."  
  


She could not help but grin to that and Rowena responded. "Good morning, Ahkmenrah."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry X  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

They returned to the main entrance after dropping off Jedediah and Octavius in the Diorama room and Dexter in the Animal Kingdom. The two mini leaders were a sight to behold, soaked from the snow and rugged after driving the toy truck back from Central Park. Larry had to give it to them; they were more resilient than he imagined. And it brought him comfort that they got back in one piece.  
  


As for the rest of the museum, it seemed that everyone returned, mostly due to Ahkmenrah's work on the Tablet. He was quite intrigued by how it worked. Did the Tablet do more than just bring the exhibits back to life? Those thoughts didn't pass him when he internally cringed at the disaster in the museum.  
  


It was a big mess, with plant pots turned over, rubbish from the bin littering the floor and the amount of toilet paper strung around the room. He wondered how Dr McPhee was going to react, and how Rowen and Rebecca would have to go through. Whilst he thought this, Teddy walked beside him. Larry thanked the president, whilst Rowen entered the main hall at his view.  
  


Teddy looked at him and gestured. "It was all you Lawrence, I knew that you had it in you."  
  


His heart lurched, and Larry hid back the warmth on his cheeks. "Look. I don't really think I can get away with all of this." His hands gestured to the whole room and sighed. "So…I guess this is goodbye."  
  


Teddy gave him a sad smile, registering the information clearly. As he hopped back onto Texas, who stood in the exact position on the podium, he began: "I see... Well, it has been good to meet you too, Lawrence. And you as well Nicholas. Lady Rowena." He saluted to Nick, who returned the gesture with a big grin on his lips. The president then turned to Rowen at Larry's side. "I hope to see you tonight then. I believe your friend will need assistance in adjusting outside his dwelling."  
  


At the mention of the pharaoh, Larry realised what they were talking about. To think that Ahkmenrah spent fifty years in his coffin, coming back to life during the night must have been the worst thing to experience. And then his mind came across the night guards. Cecil, Gus and Reginald had worked for the museum as the same amount as when the tablet and Ahkmenrah were here.  
  


He hid back his growing anger when Rowen only gave back a smile - one that didn't reach her eyes than her usual ones. But the subject was completely changed when Larry eyed sun beginning to come over the windows.  
  


He quickly said out loud. "Teddy."  
  


"Yes, Lawrence?" Teddy answered.  
  


"Thank you." When those two words left his mouth, he truly meant it. Not only the man helped him get through these past three nights with this job, but it also seemed Teddy did make him realise another side of life. If history knew Theodore Roosevelt as a courageous and just president through journals and books, nothing could beat the real man in front of him.  
  


As light entered the room, Larry and Rowen watched Teddy pose.  
  


"Bully! Got you!" Teddy shouted, sending Larry jumping once more.  
  


Larry grinned, chuckling along with the two. The woman next to him quirked her lips at the president, amused once more. He held his hands up in defeat. "Yeah, yeah. You got me."  
  


Raising his sword up in the air, Teddy glanced down to them with a final sincere grin. "Smile my friends. It's sunrise."  
  


They waited for a few seconds, once they knew that the exhibits finally returned to their frozen form. That was when he felt the small pang in his chest as the thought of morning deflating his excitement. Reality was back again, and it did not appear as good as Larry hoped it would have been last night.  
  


But he took a deep breath and decided to carry on by helping Rebecca, Rowen and Nick clean up some of the mess. The first thing they did was try and find where Attila and the Huns tied the night guards up. Tied by rope and wires in the animal kingdom exhibit, they slept soundly before he hit a spear against its matching shield.  
  


They were a little more delirious and more willing to follow Larry when he told them that they would be calling the cops on them. That was when the pretty words escaped their mouths, sending Rowen snorting out loud and Larry nudging her to take this seriously. Cecil was a little more different, who stayed silent during Larry's list of things he would do.  
  


Once Rebecca and Rowen moved the stolen artefacts back to their respective places, and Nick and him clearing up as much as they could: it was almost opening time. His backside ached; it's been years since he rode a horse, and that was when Nick was six years old, who wanted to try it out during a holiday. He looked back and thought to himself of how much of a badass he seemed when chasing the carriage through Central Park.  
  


That sent him grinning for the past few minutes.  
  


Nick waited in the main entrance, having packed up his stuff and yawning out from the door. He changed back to usual clothes and placed the uniform in one of the lockers. Keys and torch in his hand, he spotted Rowen jotting down notes, sitting idly under Rexy. When she noticed him, Larry raised an eyebrow and she smiled. Exhausted dark rims under her eyes.  
  


Even after what occurred last night, it amazed him that she still had the time to work.  
  


As she got up to go to him, he spoke. "Hey, Rowen. Thank you."  
  


It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "For what?"  
  


"For helping me, everything actually." It came out a little bit dramatic, but Larry didn't care. The person in front of him had to be either the kindest person or the most ridiculous person he ever met. He didn't see what Rowen saw in front of her all this time. It confused him more how someone younger than him: appeared to be so wise. Or perhaps what Cecil said was true.  
  


Rowen's eyes warmed, and she answered back. "You should be thanking the museum and the exhibits for that." She gestured to Teddy and the rest of the room. "Without you and them, this place might have gone downhill. The tablet would be in the wrong hands. I'd be across the world...or dead." She gave a bemused tone.  
  


Larry let out a nervous laugh, agreeing to what she spoke. He will thank them at some point. Who knows; he might pop round if Rowen allowed him.  
  


"Uh yeah. And no, no. I'll do that." He paused. "...But I wanted to thank you, for not giving up on me. For giving me one more chance. No one's ever kind of given so much hope on me since...since I was a kid I guess."  
  


She let out a sigh, titled her head to the side. Deep brown eyes stared right into his. "Larry, I gave you a chance because deep down there: you were capable of leading something greater," Rowen spoke. "Tonight was just that. I heard from Teddy that you made that speech. Everybody listened to you, and you gave them something to fight for."  
  


Well, that wasn't what he expected.  
  


Suddenly, he felt his cheeks warm up, and he probably looked like a tomato. Larry looked away with a stifling laugh. "Look, don't give me that. I mean, I'll probably get fired after all of this mess. I can't exactly get out of it for the second time." He gestured around him. The hall may have looked a little bit cleaner without the rolls and rubbish, but there were still some stains on the floor and the odd broken pottery.  
  


Rowen nodded. "I understand." She quirked her lips. "Though, I don't know, Larry. I might not find another person like you that can do this job well in a span of three nights."  
  


"Yeah." He let out a quiet laugh. He then curiously mentioned her situation. "And what about you? Cecil said something about knowing you years ago...is it true? Are you, that necklace-"  
  


He pointed at her neck, which showed slightly the glint of the golden necklace. When he picked it up with his hands, finding it in the snow, he forgot about what happened with Cecil. It looked like any regular piece of jewellery to him. But when he faced both Rowen and Ahkmenrah with their faces filled with shock: the realisation brought him to his own confusion.  
  


Rowen then changed her tone of voice and clearly replied. "As I said. Another time." He wasn't sure if she was asking him or herself. "I wonder how you can hold it? No one ever has. Though, I promise to tell you as much as I could."  
  


He could only nod back, not too bothered about it for now. Saying to Rowen that we were just going to meet with Dr McPhee in his office, he walked away.  
  


"I knew him. Your grandfather."  
  


Larry paused and repeated the sentence in his head.  
  


When he turned around, Rowen stared at him with a fixed gaze. She wasn't making fun of Cecil. Larry knew she was telling the absolute truth. "Huh...okay, definitely something a person who'd lived forever would say..." He hummed and then added. "Also, when did you not mention speaking Hun? And Columbus? And being friends with an Egyptian that keeps calling you with a different name?"  
  


Instead of a serious response, Rowen laughed - a genuine laugh that rung into his ears. "Something tells me: working with you is going to be much more interesting."   
  


Larry quipped back: " _If_ I don't get fired that is."   
  


She only grinned back, making Larry click his fingers and strode back down to the director's office. Even if he wouldn't get the job back, Larry would never regret the three nights he spent here.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

He didn't see Rowen for the rest of the morning. But he assumed that Rowen would have already sorted the night guards out with the police before Dr McPhee would question him.  
  


And that was what happened. Larry stood in the Director's office, quiet as McPhee judged him with no comment. Larry didn't complain or try to reason with the man to keep the job, because at this point there wasn't anything else that could help him keep the position. He was only grateful that Rowen and Teddy accepted the consequences of last night's fiasco.  
  


He handed Dr McPhee his flashlight and keys, a little sadness when he let go of them. They spoke nothing back until Larry muttered a good morning and the Director opened the door for him.  
  


What he could not believe his own eyes was what happened next.  
  


Entering the main entrance, he expected an empty hall with only Rebecca sitting behind the reception desk. But instead: there were people. Lots of them. They were filing into the museum from the front doors, murmuring to themselves and kids gesturing to Rexy and Teddy. Larry immediately felt his lips curl up, and internally smirked at the man next to him.  
  


' _I guess the news of the museum 'coming to life' made people want to go_ ,' Larry thought and lugged his duffel bag on his shoulder. ' _If extinct animals roaming Central Park wasn't a good advertisement, I don't know what is._ '  
  


"Here."   
  


To his surprise, he saw the flashlight and keys in front of him. He slowly grabbed for them, and he saw the change of mind in Dr McPhee's face.  
  


Larry had no words, only this. "Thank You."   
  


The Director made a sound, before bustling away to speak with oncoming visitors. His eyes wanted to look for Rowen, eager to tell her that she was right to his surprise.  
  


Though instead, he found himself staring up to Teddy. He muttered back with a smile. "Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying up some parts of 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	14. Name on Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things happen for Rowena and Richard during the board meeting whilst Rowena finally takes her time to connect with her best friend's great granddaughter.
> 
> Months later, Larry seeks the truth of Rowena's past between tea and coffee.

** Rowena XIII  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

Rowena held her breath.  
  


A voice spoke from the end of the table, "Well, with the... _unexpected_ advertisement you handled last week, Dr Bates: you seemed to increase the income of visitors."  
  


She kept her head straight, directly towards the woman in the deep red suit. The woman's hair was slicked back, with matching lipstick on her lips. It almost levelled with Rowena's own, which took her two days to fuss over and change it. Watching the head governess of the American Museum of Natural History, Rowena could sense a moment of thought across the woman. She flicked through her notes, pursing her mouth.  
  


Dr Micarah Campbell waited for to respond to her compliment, which Rowena exhaled: "Actually, you'll have to thank the director, Ms Hutman and Mr Daley." In the corner of her eye, she sensed Richard wanting to snort out loud but remained professional. "They stepped forward the idea to which I agreed to. And as a member of this board, I took the risk of applying it for a night..."  
  


She trailed off to take a quick pan around the room.  
  


Everyone was hooked on her words.  
  


She let out a small smile and couldn't resist feeling a little bit prouder than she should. Rowena added, "...Fortunately, it was a success."  
  


There were several murmurs. And after a minute, the governess stood up straight, shoulders back as she kept her eyes focused on Rowena in front of her. Dr Campbell was a renowned Egyptologist and Historian, having made front lines in every news for the past two decades. Having found various temples and mummies during her time, the woman laid back from the public just a few years ago and began running as a governess for the Smithsonian and New York Museums.  
  


There was an air of respect when it came to Rowena, which irked her slightly how someone could hold the room so easily with a confident yet soft voice. "Therefore, we would like to agree with your proposition." Dr Campbell answered.  
  


Rowena's heart lurched.  
  


Dr Campbell continued, "We will continue our funds to the American Museum of Natural History, allowing the expansion of new exhibits as well as the connecting project with New York University. As well as that, I suppose an agreement to extend your stay in America will be needed." A small smile escaped the governess' lips and Rowena could not help but bow her head down.  
  


Richard next to her wasn't hiding his surprise at all and coughed before answering back. "Thank you, we're glad about this outcome." He added quickly, "And we would not let you down."  
  


Dr Campbell nodded. "We know you won't Dr McPhee, Dr Bates. We hope to see a great result of your project in the future."  
  


When they got out of the building and onto the steps, Rowena couldn't rub off the grin on her face. She felt like a little girl again, happy and free after something went right for the first time. Her feet seemed a little bit lighter than usual as she skipped down the steps, whilst Richard trudged behind, shoulders and chest up and strong. She then turned around and stopped.  
  


He nonchalantly stated, "I think we did a good job." It earned him a roll in the eyes from herself, as she placed a hand over his shoulder.  
  


"Of course, you did." She calmed herself down and replied. "I'm proud of you, Richard. Your speech was lovely."  
  


Richard smirked. "Well of course it was. Perfect as always." He then gave her a look of intent and drawled out. "I guess that means you're staying for longer? Antonio thought you'll be gone for a year."  
  


The information passed into her head, and Rowena agreed. She only promised the British Museum a year away to assist the New York Museum, hence why she was only rooming with her best friend's great-granddaughter. But with this new door opened for her, allowing her to help make the museum better: she couldn't pass the chance.  
  


Not only in this case, but Rowena also needed to consider the exhibits and Larry. There were too many important things to deal with. The best way for her was to take her time, bit by bit she would build the museum up back to its former glory.  
  


Rowena waved it off and reassured him. "It's alright. I'm sure he can run the museum well enough. I have meetings online. He won't get away from me too easily." She smirked. "And what about you, already tired of me?"  
  


"Yes." Richard quickly replied and then shook his head. "No...I mean, thank you."  
  


Rowena quirked her lips, helping to ease Richard's typical statements. "Let's go." She gestured him to follow her. "What we need is a cuppa and watch some good old British Tele."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She closed the front door, doing her usual routine of removing her coat and shoes. There was a muffled sound of voices coming from the lounge; and Rowena knew that her flatmate was back home early, considering it was the beginning of the weekend. Leslie's classes usually finished earlier than the rest and she either went home to Garrett's flat or out for dinner. To her surprise, it was neither these things.  
  


As she slowly tipped-toed in, she noticed Leslie sitting on of the armchairs, curled up with her legs tucked into her chest. Wrapped up in a cardigan and fluffy socks, the young Carter was watching some American soap which Rowena didn't know of. In fairness, she rarely watched much television, apart from certain shows that appealed to her taste. She only began watching television when everybody seemed to have the contraption everywhere, and radios and telegrams began going out of date.  
  


One thing is for sure, she stood away from anything historical apart from documentaries. Dramatic shows filled with romance and war was something Rowena always never pursued. Either it was too inaccurate...or hard to bear the past.  
  


For a few moments, she stood by the door. She hadn't noticed her until Rowena spoke, "Leslie?"  
  


"Hey." She flashed a grin. Groaning, she lifted herself to a sitting position. "Hi. Congrats, I heard from Garret you're working with NYU now."  
  


The news of the museum receiving funding once more spread through the exhibits rather quickly. And most were relieved that they could keep their nightlife, some excited to see new things for the museum. Larry congratulated her and Rebecca on the good news, which then led to another week of constant meetings and refurbishing.   
  


Alongside this, she began communicating to the history department of the university, which meant perked up ears from the students wanting to work for them. Rowena had a headache thinking of the spam email she would be getting once the applications begin running.  
  


Rowena nodded. "I am." Returning the gesture, she expressed out loud. "I'm rather excited. ...Leslie, are you doing anything tonight?" The change of subject caught the young Carter off guard and eyed Rowena with a raised eyebrow.  
  


Simply shrugging her shoulders, Rowena kept silent as Leslie lowered the volume of the TV.  
  


Leslie began, "Well, I have some papers to do but it's not that bad." Leslie paused. "What do you have in mind?"  
  


"Would you like to go out. Girls night out." She asked.  
  


The red-headed woman sat up and responded: "Really?"  
  


"Yes, I mean…yeah.” She blurted out. “I realised how we haven't spent time together." For some reason, the words coming out seemed too unfamiliar for Rowena.  
  


She has never been someone to 'go out' occasionally, considering she kept her friendship circle very tightly knitted like a jumper. Even so, she never partook in anything modern recently. Perhaps this was a chance to experience New York in the 21st century. Those bright lights and exuberant shops and stores fascinated her.  
  


"...And since I'm going to be here for a couple more years..." Rowena trailed off.  
  


Leslie was now attentive, raising both brows in surprise. "Wait, you're staying longer?" She then closed her lips together. "Okay, that sounded wrong. Not that I want you gone of course, but you know..."  
  


Chuckling, Rowena shook her head. "Oh, I'll definitely find a place of my own eventually. These past few weeks haven't been the most suitable time with work and all." She exhaled. "But right now: I want to start being proper friends."  
  


Out of all the times Rowena has interacted with Leslie, the way which her friend's face contorted to an incredulous expression reminded her too much of Howard. It almost caught her off guard until Leslie asked her back, making her blink away the thought.  
  


"So, no more night shifts?"  
  


She nodded back. "Every so often but not every night. Have to make sure our security is a little bit better." Rowena explained.  
  


"Good, because I want a drinking buddy, who isn't my boyfriend, so I can talk about boys and girl stuff," Leslie smirked. "And you'll need to be with us for thanksgiving. Dad's been wondering how Hettie’s been. With um, Aunt Peggy and all.”  
  


At the mention of that name, Rowena paused at her spot.  
  


"I'll put that on a reminder." That was all Rowena could say, but in truth: her heart pommeled against the walls of her chest.  
  


Soon as the young Carter jogged upstairs to get ready, Rowena gazed over to the window and took a deep breath.  
  


' _Take a deep breath, Rowena..._ ' she told herself repeatedly until she felt herself think straight again.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XI  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

Larry knocked on the door.  
  


In a few moments, the door opened - revealing the petite woman who changed her mood to a sincere smile as she greeted him. "Good morning, Larry."  
  


Entering her office, Rowen allowed him to take a seat. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk, sighing to feel the pressure from his feet be lifted.  
  


"Hey, Rowen. Good sleep?" He asked her.  
  


"It was alright. My flatmate and her boyfriend...you know." She rolled her eyes and waved her hand away. "Typical couple things."  
  


"Ah. I understand." He chuckled softly, watching Rowen roll her eyes as she filed away some papers. She walked around her office, busying herself with things around her. Apart from her desk, everything seemed so tidy and clean. Nothing seemed to be out apart from some display cases and some photographs. It wasn't as old fashioned nor modern in his taste, almost a mixture of both.  
  


Whilst she approached a set of drawers, Rowena inquired, "How about you?"  
  


Once his friend asked him, he thought carefully what to say. It had been almost a full six months since he began working at the museum. A lot of things have changed. Luckily it wasn't too drastic. Erica was glad that he had a stable job to look after Nick, meaning he didn't need to move to Queens.  
  


Larry thanked Rowen for that. He couldn't get away from his eviction so easily, meaning he needed to move either way, though not as far as he expected.  
  


During her weekly visits to the museum, the curator approached him with a list of several apartments she found in Brooklyn. They were around the budget he wanted: and to his surprise moved in just before time ran out. In another swirl of a moment, Larry's debt to her built up - and so did the small guilt edge up with him.  
  


Throughout the next few months, he learned that Rowen knew things about people without having to ask for it explicitly. Despite a little bit suspicious how Rowen knew of his little issue (which was probably Nick's innocent doing), Larry was grateful and a little bit accountable of it. She had done so much for him and yet didn't ask for anything back - other than to stay and continue taking care of the museum. He didn't mind. Larry got used to the museum life. In fact, he almost grew fond in some specific exhibits.  
  


It didn't stop the other visitors coming in once in a while. Most of the time it was Rowen and Nick. Rebecca stayed once in a while to discuss things with Teddy and Sacagawea and he was glad that she didn't feel too 'weirded' out by the situation.  
  


"Nick really wanted to stay, again. But I sent him down in the office and sleep for a bit. I got Don to take him home." Larry told her of last night. "Rebecca's made sure of it which was kind of her."  
  


Rowen kind of froze for a second, "That's...nice." Her head turned slightly, and she raised her eyebrow and quirked her lips. "You and her?"  
  


When he realised what Rowen was implying, Larry tried to hide his cheeks growing pink. It's wasn't that he was embarrassed of the outcome, perhaps it was how Rowen finally asked about it…or more specifically him and the museum docent. It took him six months to finally ask Rebecca to have a proper date, to which she thankfully said yes to. Not one point had Rowen mentioned anything, and it gave Larry the notion that she already knew but never meddled with it.  
  


He might as well be thanking her for not pushing, unlike his son: who liked Rebecca very much. Nick never missed an opportunity complimenting him out loud to the docent. Larry stammered out. "I... uh, we have a date."  
  


There was ringing sound, which he noticed to have been a kettle. Water was boiling as Rowena busied herself to put things away and putting things out. There was a wide grin on her, as she calmly said, "I'm very happy for you two." She then gestured at the kettle. "Now. Tea or coffee?"  
  


"Coffee please," Larry answered back. He waited for her to sit down, placing a mug in front of him as well as for her own. She moved her teaspoon before tapping it to the side and placing it down on the saucer. "So, you wanted to talk to me. About..."   
  


Expecting for her to finish his sentence, Rowen's gaze turned to him as she said, "The thing. What I said back in January."  
  


He nodded.  
  


"I apologise for not talking about it sooner." Rowen huffed and gave him a tired smile. She held several papers together, which Larry identified to have been contracts. He quickly assumed it was for museum business. "But I've been busy."  
  


Larry nodded and assured her. "I know. That big project of yours is really taking up your time."  
  


Finishing his sentence, he realised that Rowen disappeared in front of him. He tilted his chin up, trying to see where she went. But once he lowered back down onto his seat, his friend got back up from under the desk, taking out a large photo frame onto the tabletop. Confusion brought Larry to fidget under his seat.  
  


Rowen answered back, "Very big. And I need it to make sure the museum has enough funds before we expand." Her hands brushed the glass of the frame, dust particles flying about. She then stated, "Okay, here we go. Had to dig through my stuff to find it."  
  


"Huh. And?" Larry trailed off whilst she gently moved the frame closer to him. He carefully placed his hands onto the surface, seeing that it wasn't just a photo frame. Inside the glass was a yellowy-brown piece of paper. Old and almost crumpled on the sides. There were some words and number written in beautiful calligraphy that it was almost difficult to read. The ink was faded in some parts, with a gold stamp on the bottom corner.  
  


When he looked back up, Rowen encouraged him. "Read it, I think it's best to start with it."  
  


> _**Certificate of Birth  
> ** _
> 
> _**I, the undersigned, do hereby certify that the Birth of** _
> 
> _**Rowena Elizabeth Clarke** _
> 
> _**born on the 19th Day of August 1776.** _
> 
> _**To the parents of:** _
> 
> _**Harold Mortimer Clarke** _
> 
> _**&** _
> 
> _**Eleanor Victoria Clarke** _
> 
> _**Born in Plymouth, Cornwall, Great Britain.  
>   
> ** _

Rowena Elizabeth Clarke?  
  


Why is she showing a birth certificate of an old woman?  
  


And then Larry remembered once more, of the times she gazed his eyes on her. Eyes that were much older than his own. Wise and hardened.  
  


_"...I knew him. Your grandfather."_ A relay of Rowen's words filled his ears. He shook his head, before turning back into the conversation. "It says here you were born in 1776?" Larry read the old brown sheet of paper in front of him.  
  


Rowen just smiled, but her eyes said more. "That's right."  
  


"No. No, that isn't right." He spluttered out, waving his hands at her. "You look, you look-"  
  


"Twenty-five?"  
  


Larry blurted out: "Young! I mean...Well, yeah." He could feel his cheeks warm slightly. "Probably not even that. Maybe nineteen or something... But then again, Ahk knew you and called you a different name. But it says here you're Rowena Elizabeth Clarke?"  
  


He watched her simply sat there, not even reacting with an exasperated tone to his ignorance. "That's because I am. My original name given to me was this."  
  


Larry continued glancing back to the frame in front of him, the revelation still processing in his head. "Please tell me, the full story."  
  


She thinned her lips, averting her look back. A ragged breath escaped her mouth, "I don't think I have time to tell you my entire life story."  
  


He immediately felt bad for demanding, though his heart couldn't bear not knowing anything else. Both their eyes caught each other, one pleading whilst the other stared with hesitation.  
  


Another sigh left her lips, and Rowen gave in. "But I'll give you a quick summary..."  
  


Larry listened intently to Rowen, where she began her story being born in the ocean and being found by a man who would then become her adopted father. Her father was a Duke in England, who couldn't bore any children. Eventually, her father passed on the title to her after marrying a nobleman, something she couldn't escape from.  
  


He never knew this side of Rowen, and perhaps couldn't expect it. There wasn't a ring on the specific finger that indicated her marriage. And even then, what else has she done throughout her lifetime?  
  


But then the story turned darker than he expected. Rowen's tale when she first went abroad with her husband to Pompeii, only to die at the hands of people wanting to kill her brought him to take a double-take. As well as this, she mentioned the merchant who gave her the pendant, which was initially a coin - a token made of gold. She then proceeded to tell him that she then woke up, buried in a coffin. Alive. And for the next two hundred years, she would be roaming the world, trying to find answers to her resurrection.  
  


The only thing he could say from all of that was: "Come again."  
  


Rowen - or Rowena or god knows what - raised an eyebrow. "Larry, the museum comes to life. Surely-"  
  


"I know that." Larry butted in and then gestured to the door and her own person. "But that's...Ahk's one is a tablet, which is a _magic_ tablet. You're...not magic. Are you? Or is it the pendant?" With the mention of the necklace around her, Rowen became wary of where he was staring at.  
  


She fiddled with the rim of the coin-shaped pendant, sighing heavily. "I don't know either, Larry. I can go for weeks without wearing this." Rowen continued. "But it has as always been in my reach ever since my death. In a way, it protects me despite how close I was that night to being captured."  
  


"Don't remind me." He grumbled under his breath before straightening himself.  
  


There was a moment which Rowen relaxed her appearance, a sombre look on her. She softly spoke, "Larry...remember I told you that I knew your grandfather."  
  


"You. You meant you actually knew him. As in-"  
  


Nodding, she admitted. "Yes. He worked with me in Egypt for most of his life." There was a flicker of glimmer over her irises, which Larry knew of someone who tells stories of happy memories. "Robert was a close friend of mine along with Howard Carter. Your father must've told you?"  
  


Larry formed a grin, remembering well the man he met as he was just a little boy. Grandpa Rob always liked to tell him stories about his time abroad. The Daley never originally came from New York, and only migrated just after the second world war to stay in New York.  
  


"Yeah. He did." He smiled.  
  


She pulled out another folder and passed it across the desk. When he opened, he felt his lips upturn in awe.  
  


In his hands was a photo, of her and who seemed to be his grandfather. Robert Daley stood beside Rowen; a whole head taller than her. On Rowen’s other side was another man which she mentioned to have been Howard Carter. They stood what seemed to be an old stone courtyard, with an open area of greenery.  
  


‘ _Cambridge…_ ’ He sucked up a breath. ‘ _They went to school together._ ’  
  


There was another photo, but it was much newer. An older Robert was sitting on a picnic blanket with a woman beside him, alongside four other children. One of them was Larry’s father – Mildred.  
  


"He was...he was a good man. A family man. He wanted his family to be safe." That was all Rowen could say and felt his hands tighten around his mug when he saw her watery eyes. The tears didn't fall, and he noticed how well she held it in. "I only got to see him the final time after the war."  
  


"You...telling me this. This all seems so surreal." He shook his head and glanced away, still trying to picture the person in front of her not just anyone younger than him - but probably over two hundred years old.  
  


Immortality: it all seemed too hard to believe.  
  


And he worked as a night guard where the museum came to life every night.  
  


Rowen said with caution. "You can take your time, Larry-"  
  


"No. I'm fine." He paused and contemplated. "But why do you trust me with this then? Was it because you knew my family?"  
  


Larry wasn't sure how to elaborate any further. To some extent, he was heavily honoured, that out of everyone, Rowen would choose him over anyone else. But when the mention of being the grandchild of her best friend, was it only for kindness and pity?  
  


"Don't think of this like that...But in a way: yes." Rowen confessed and held a strong expression to him. "But even if you weren't related. I would still have told you, Larry Daley. To protect this whole museum. Without you, those exhibits might have been gone. The tablet and Ahk would be somewhere in storage. A place where someone can protect them is better than anywhere else."  
  


Larry's heart thumped beneath the surface of his chest.  
  


He couldn't deny how honest the words she spoke to him. There was not an ounce of wavering or lie between them. At first, Larry felt a flicker of anger at the thought. She only trusted him because of his name and his family. Was that why she kept him all this time? Did his family know of it and no one failed to tell him?  
  


But despite all of this: Rowen took it to heart on what she saw. He suspected that two hundred or so years could allow someone to read people's character easily. Could that be the reason?  
  


All in all, Larry needed to take this slowly. There was so much to think of. And considering how the woman in front of him relieved the weight of burden from her shoulders, it seemed Larry felt a little bit responsible for her safety. She was much like the rest of the exhibits. A true miracle. And she trusted him to keep two secrets.  
  


He fumbled his hands together, with him saying softly. "You seem so sure I can do this."  
  


"You've completed almost six months. I know you can." With an assuring tone, Rowen answered.  
  


Larry wryly smiled back. "Thanks." His response saw her relax her shoulders slightly, and she carefully returned her last remaining identity back under her desk.  
  


He noticed that his coffee had grown cold, and he subtly scuttled it to the furthest corner of the desk before Rowen could notice. "Also. About things...Cecil, Gus and Reginald." A dark look began to form in her face.  
  


"Don't worry about them, Rowen," Larry replied, remembering how the three nightguards were still left under the wing of the police. "I'm still sorting that out."  
  


"I know." She spoke. "I'd like to go talk to him. That's all."  
  


His ears perked up, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?"  
  


Her posture became rigid, gone was the young woman, graceful and poise. Now there was a bold and strong power which Larry could sense through her stern narrowed eyes. "Because I believe he was stealing the tablet to give it to the people who want to kill me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, Larry now knows Rowena's past and condition and let's just say it'll take time for him to believe everything all at once despite the tablet being entirely magical. As well as this, minor characters may pop up at some point later on, which will be important later on.
> 
> Also, I'm glad that people are excited about the next part of the story. Thank you for all the kudos and comments as well. 
> 
> Hope you guys have a nice day/evening/night :)
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	15. Cecil Fredricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more to power than what Cecil thought as he is approached by a mysterious group willing to give him the things he desires.
> 
> As for Rowena, she finally gets a new hint of those who seek for her head. And Larry spectates a new side of the immortal woman he had known for months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired lately, and I don't know why. I think it's the lockdown vibes going and the fact that I'm not in school anymore. Anyhow, welcome back to Audere Est Facere. I have currently edited the previous chapters on here (thank you Grammarly for the huge help) to make sure it's concise. At the moment, I'm editing the rest of the future chapters before I continue writing the story.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, I thought a new perspective might give some more character to our lovely former night guards. :)

** Cecil II  
  
**

_**1956 - New York City  
  
** _

It was raining. A heavy downpour and a crackling sound filled the sky, thunder echoing sonorously in the large halls of the museum. The lights slightly flickered, making his focus blur slightly. He rubbed his face, blinking back. And in a quick notice, Cecil almost forgot what he was doing.  
  


Of course, he was supposed to be on his shift.  
  


It was a few minutes into closing time, and he was already exhausted. He already had his curfew just last night, with another boring night filled with Augustus' rambling and Reginald's reminders to keep his flashlight with him. He was new to do this, having just applied for the job just several nights ago, when his father threatened to disown him for not going to school and kicking him out if he did not start earning money.  
  


To his disdain, he disliked the idea of school. It was boring and unpractical, nothing but a waste of time learning about English literature to math equations that were pointless in a job in business. Yes, he wanted to become rich; famous. Unlike his father: who only cared for old sandy pot and pans and dead people. Cecil could not see the gold in history and archaeology, but he kept quiet about it.  
  


In fact when he was a child: he did find history fascinating. Years in the desert and the land of ancient wonders brought him to learn the ancient Egyptian language to a small extent. Cecil then remembered his teacher, Dr Emilia Darcy - or Lady Emilia to most.  
  


She was a small woman, dark-skinned and tongue witted. He remembered the first few years in which he was not sure why his father didn't exactly _like_ Lady Emilia. It was not until he returned to the States that Cecil saw how her 'kind' was rather frowned upon here.  
  


But he appreciated her, and her knowledge and her persona. Her ways in making boring things interesting, capturing his attention to something that wasn’t even remotely fit for a twelve-year-old-boy then. But that had been decades ago. And knowing ancient Egyptian was not going to help him reach his aspirations.  
  


Instead, he took the job as the nightwatchman of the American Museum of Natural History.  
  


He rounded the corner, spotting several men carrying various things into one of the rooms. Standing just outside was Dr Porter, a stout yet sturdy man on his sixties. He was ordering the men carrying some wooden crates.  
  


Cecil could not help it and approached the man. He then asked, "What's happening?"  
  


To his surprise, the man jumped. Dr Porter then scowled slightly back at Cecil for scaring him before composing himself. "They're here."  
  


"Who?"  
  


Dr Porter looked at him as if he should know. "The new exhibit." He then paused and eyed him. "The one you and your father went to."  
  


Cecil tried to refrain his reaction on the mention of his father as he perked up. "Oh, you mean King Ahkmenrah?"  
  


"Yes, yes..." Dr Porter waved off.  
  


With furrowed eyebrows, he wondered out loud. "I thought they kept it back in England?"  
  


"For a few years." The museum director began to explain. "But your father and our board were promised to have it sent here. Permanently."   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Several months passed and Cecil felt he was living in a nightmare.  
  


The museum he worked in, the exhibits: they all came to life.  
  


At first, it was a shock. He was sure he, Augustus (who preferred Gus) and Reginald were going to get fired. When Dr Porter and his father returned in the morning, they were livid, and almost got them to pack their stuff. His father was not amused at all but still tried to remain neutral when it came to his son and his precious museum. But ever since after the war, and with the war with the USSR going on: it seemed they were short in applications.  
  


Now he was here, spending the first time in the sun and day - doing whatever he could do to savour the daylight. He asked out the recent applicant to the museum, an archivist called Rose. And this evening, he took the night off to take her dancing down in one of his favourite places to hang with his friends.  
  


He bought some fresh new clothes, worthy to wear for his date as well as a bouquet of flowers. Cecil giddily strode down the street, he could not deny it: he was fairly more handsome than the average male in New York. The only downcast would just have to be his class. Hopefully, that will not be the case in a few years.  
  


While he walked, Cecil felt that he was being watched. It was a busy street, with several restaurants and cafes around him. Tables and seats sat outside. It was similar to an Italian setting, which he’d seen in films. He heard several murmurs, and the mention of his name almost caught him.  
  


“Mr Fredricks.”  
  


Cecil narrowed his eyes. "Who's there."  
  


"Cecil Fredricks." A voice spoke behind him, too loud within the small murmurs of pedestrians. When turned around, he spotted a man.  
  


Sitting outside a cafe, the man's eyes stared at him through dark spectacles. He wore a dark black suit. Even when everyone else was wearing similar attire, to Cecil it stood out too much. It gave an impression of expense and sophistication, worth more than it could appear. Tanned skinned with sleek black hair, the man wore a fedora to match his suit.  
  


The man drawled out, "The boy who found the tomb."  
  


Cecil panned his head around, trying not to stare back at the man. "I don't know who you're talking about."  
  


But to no surprise, the man didn't say anything - still staring back blankly. It irked him very much, and he averted his eyes away. "And I don't know who you are." Cecil firmly said and was ready to walk away. "Good day."  
  


However, the man called out. "Come and sit down." Cecil paused and eyed him back with a stern look. "I'd like to discuss with you something. A proposition. Considering how you are struggling with financial issues."  
  


He hid back the shock, and almost gaped back. How could the man know his background was a mystery and he grew suspicious on the man that was eager for him to talk to. Cecil knew many people, but never forgot a face. And if his friends told about their friends, he'd know what they look like.  
  


But this man, there was an air of mystery and suspicion. And Cecil warily approached this as much as possible.  
  


The man took off his glasses, and he found his eyes to be as dark as his hair - still lingering a sense of power to captivate him. Cecil found himself walking towards him until he was leaning down.  
  


The man spoke, "I can help you, Mr Fredricks."  
  


Cecil lowered himself down to the chair opposite the man in the suit, "I'm listening."  
  


The man leaned back and straightened his back. A confident and rigid pose which gave Cecil a meaning how serious he meant it. "Our...let's just say: our group, is willing to provide you with a sufficient amount of information."  
  


"What kind?"  
  


"The kind to achieve your goals." The man answered. "You appear to be a man who seeks money. Status… power."  
  


Cecil hid his fist which clenched slowly down to the gun in his pocket.  
  


The man simply spoke. "You don't believe me."  
  


"Oh, hell I don't," He gritted his teeth. "Why should I believe what you say? I don't even know what your group is. For all I care: you're the mafia of some kind."  
  


"In time, we will...reveal what our intentions are." The man was ever too composed, who didn't even bat an eye on his sudden outburst. Instead, he continued: "Your position as the nightwatchman of the museum is a crucial part. If you are willing to provide our cause to some information about the museum and its inhabitants.”  
  


Cecil bit back his question. ‘ _How did he know…_ ’ He had never seen this man linger about the museum at all, so for him to realise that the museum came back to life bewildered the young nightguard.  
  


“In turn, we'll help you with the problems you face." The mysterious man finished.  
  


He internally breathed. This wasn't how his day was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be home in his apartment, get ready for his Rose and then probably get a telegram from Reginald for being too late with his date. Now he was in the midst of a man who knew his job and his life.  
  


But in the small back of his head, Cecil wanted to agree to him. He wasn't sure why though; like there was a voice in his head telling him to accept the deal.  
  


He then remembered his dreams, his wants and desires. Lots of money and a comfortable life. A time when he couldn't care less paying the rent and putting food on his plate.  
  


Cecil then said, "How."  
  


The man didn't react to his question, but in his eyes, it seemed to glitter in a way of a smirk. He slid in front onto the table a briefcase, black as much as his suit.  
  


"Have you heard of the idea of immortality?"  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Father."  
  


When his voice called out, the older man in front of him turned around.  
  


His father had been standing in front of the wall of hieroglyphics since he entered the Egyptian exhibit, studying it once again after all those times in the desert. One thing was for sure in Cecil was that his father never changed. He was still the same man since their time in Egypt - as if the land had permanently tainted his mind and soul completely.  
  


Cecil instead changed, and perhaps in a better way for him.   
  


"Ah, son. Come and look at this." He beckoned for him.  
  


He fell next to his father's side, looking over the text engraved on the wall. He remembered it too well, re-plastering the same wall it sat in its original temple to create a replica. Cecil could understand some of the words though only barely. His father probably read it much like English.  
  


And sitting right in the middle was the Tablet of Ahkmenrah, shining brightly in the dim light as if it were the moon in the night sky.  
  


His father whispered. "Isn't it beautiful?”  
  


Cecil hummed in agreement. "It is.” He stated plainly, “You never stop staring at it."  
  


"It's a shame." His father folded his arms, a feeling of distaste on his words. "All those years hiding in a school when he could've been seen in a whole city."  
  


"They perhaps wanted to study it." He suggested. It was partially true, considering how Lady Emilia did earn her place to have it sent away to England for a few years. Then the war happened, and Cecil lost the woman who was a second mother to him. Killed by the Germans during the Blitz, Emilia Darcy’s legacy was lost at such a young age.  
  


They still had to keep the promise to the British Museum, who then, in turn, had Joanna Bates (nee Darcy) take it under her wing. The sister of the founder of the tomb.  
  


Cecil immediately loathed the woman. How could someone steal someone's work that was revolutionary? Especially their own sister who died not knowing what was to become of it.  
  


Instead, Cecil bit down his hatred as his father spoke; "Maybe,”  
  


“But why not let the world see it as well? See the work we've done for years in the hot desert and sand." His father questioned.  
  


Cecil could sense the irritation that has built up inside him. So, he quickly decided to change the subject, something he'd been wanting to tell his father about. "Father, I want to speak to you." He paused. "About the Tablet."  
  


His father glanced at him and asked: "What about it?"  
  


What was he doing, risking himself to ask his father? He would not believe Cecil, the man next to him hardly believed in the arts of magic and mayhem, only believed the things existing in front of his very eyes.  
  


However: Cecil has seen things. Power, magic, immortality. The very man that proposed the contract showed him the works of what that group could do. And many have already reached their goals to fame and glory. The past weeks had his heart grow heavy and his wider into the world of what could have just been a fantasy.  
  


' _But if he does believe me..._ ' Cecil wondered to himself. ' _Will he accept the aid?_ '  
  


' _ **He will not believe you…’  
  
**_

He felt a pinch on the back of his neck, biting his tongue to stop him from wincing. "I think...I think it's really real." Cecil quietly said, pointing at the tablet in front of them. "What they said about the end, how it might end something."  
  


Father gaped back, before scoffing. "C.J...really? You finally believe those people?"  
  


At that moment, Cecil did not see the disbelief in his father's eyes - he saw disappointment.

Shaking his head, his father turned away from the tablet and ambled away.  
  


Cecil called out, "Father-"  
  


"I had enough of your insolence ever since we returned." His father's eyes glowered, a bold and dark tone in his words. "Nobody is going to touch this tablet. Not any magical being or thing will take this away!" His voice echoed around the dimly lit room, and before then - Cecil watched his father walk away.  
  


He inhaled through his nostrils, gritting his teeth. Tears were threatening to fall from his cheeks, but he will not let them. Cecil was a grown man; he was not a child anymore. And he would not show his weakness in front of him.  
  


' _He just doesn't see reason_ ,' He thought to himself as he admired the tablet in front of him.  
  


' _ **Protect the tablet...** '  
  
_

Cecil looked around, but no one was there. He narrowed his eyes until he shut them suddenly. It felt as if his neck was burning.  
  


That night on the outskirts of the city.  
  


' _ **And in time...you will be rewarded...** '  
  
_

"Have it your way, father." Cecil murmured, still rubbing the sore on his neck. "You will see soon enough that you are wrong."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XIV  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

Inside a brownstone in the city, Rowena and Larry sat down to have lunch.  
  


It was the first time since the 'talk' which Rowena finally sat down with him to speak of it. Of course, it was not the most appropriate dinner-table conversation to pick up. But they did not exactly finish the conversation as they were interrupted by the knock on her door.  
  


The day Rowena revealed to Larry her immortality: Rose from the Archives was asking for her to help her identify the new artefacts being filed. At that moment, Larry needed to leave to get Nick back to Erica, which she could only understand as a single parent.  
  


Now, in the comfort of her own home with food: Rowena continued her story.  
  


"There's a group..." She began telling him, "I don't know their names, but I always knew someone was watching me. All this time."  
  


It was a grim tale to say, which she grew to become accustomed to telling. Rowena did not like to speak of her memories, but she knew it would be better to tell Larry before speaking about the rest of her own life.  
  


When she first decided to travel to America, her granddaughter protested. She said it was too dangerous and risky for herself, especially where there were so many people and yet they all want one thing - to find fame and security. It was much like her son-in-law as well, who didn’t speak vocally of his opinion, but she could tell that the two were adamant on her decision to move for a few years.  
  


Rowena assured her granddaughter and son-in-law that the Americas were not a pit of men wanting money; that there were passion and peace in a bustling city.  
  


But Rowena was vigilant, she didn't bring down her guard even if she was sleeping after two days without rest. It was almost a habit - living like she was on the edge of a cliff, waiting for any forces to make her fall. The last hundred years did not help her self-sanity as well.  
  


Despite this, she could feel the unease in the back of her mind. She only learned to hide it well.  
  


Larry could easily see the wariness and immediate tiredness on her, by how concerned he appeared.  
  


"That sounds pretty creepy if you ask me." He spoke after taking a sip of his drink, "How do you live like this? As if everything's okay?”  
  


There was a moment of silence, where Rowena refrained from sighing deeply. It was harder to look at him as well, considering how the expression he showed eerily looked the same as Robert’s. The same one whenever Robert wanted to press her into expressing her emotions.  
  


‘ _Damn the Daleys and their ways to make you talk._ ’ She cursed.  
  


"I try to." She partially lied in her answers. "Two hundred years; you get used to being on the verge of dying.”  
  


She continued, “I’ve obviously survived it all. But they never seemed to be able to catch me. Three times they have tried and yet I'm still here." Okay, that was very much true. That was one thing Rowena couldn't deny, and a little bit impressed of herself about it.  
  


Once they were finished, Rowena began cleaning the dishes whilst Larry helped, placing them back to the right spots in the cupboards. She eyed the clock hanging on the wall and saw that it was coming to the afternoon. ' _Larry would probably want to prepare for this evening_ ,' She thought.  
  


As she passed a plate to Larry to dry, he cut the silence with a question. "So... You think Cecil's a part of this?" He asked.  
  


She stared down at her arms, the water murky and filled with soap. Rowen quietly said, "I knew him as a child."  
  


"Say what." Larry blankly said.  
  


She stopped washing, giving him a small smile as she explained. "I worked with his father during an expedition to uncover Ahkmenrah. That is why he knew of the Tablet.”  
  


Larry’s eyes lit up, finally realising what she meant.  
  


“But he never knew who I was. I was currently Emilia Darcy at the time." It was an odd feeling when Rowen spoke of that name once more, imagining the taste of sand and papyrus on her lips.  
  


It was one of her names; yet it felt like she was talking about a completely different person to her as she was right now. As her eyes wandered over to the man by the kitchen island, she received a sympathetic look before she turned away.  
  


She changed the subject to something more light-hearted, talking about how she enjoyed New York's pass time of baseball even though it was rather rowdy at times. Larry soon perked up at the subject and began telling her of his favourite team and which players to look out for on the field.  
  


In that time, Rowena forgot what she was discussing about, and did not feel the need to mention the man once more.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Rowena followed Larry up the steps, letting her friend open the door for her. They entered the building, a pungent scent lingering around the grey room. They made it to the reception desk, her hands moist from her fists clenched too tightly. When the man behind the monitor gave them two cards and a gesture - they went through the metal bar gates and went down a white corridor of the prison.  
  


If to say she was nervous, that was an understatement. She had many questions in her mind, ordered carefully and ready. Though what she did not prepare were her emotions. Rowena rarely felt anything strongly unless it damaged her family or herself. But with the man they were going to meet, it was a mixture of anger and anguish.  
  


She needed to compose herself; prepare. Once Larry caught her with a grim smile, they thanked the guard by the door and entered the small room.  
  


Sitting idly pass the glass barrier was the man himself.  
  


He had his hands on his lap, a rugged look he appeared to be in. It seemed that his short sentence wasn't helping his health at all. Rowena hid the sense of doubt in her mind and once his blue-grey eyes spotted hers and Larry's: his perked up.  
  


Cecil greeted them, "Emilia Darcy, pleasant surprise. And Larry Daley as well." It was not a sarcastic pleasant tone, but it didn't pose anything of hatred.  
  


On their side of the room were two chairs, as well as a microphone on the table. Rowena slowly sat down by Larry, her eye gaze never leaving Cecil. Her posture was stiff, her back straightened up as she kept herself composed. Here in this room, she was not the historian and curator. She was Rowena Clarke once more, a woman who held the room with a single gaze.  
  


She said stern tone: "My name is Rowen Bates."  
  


Cecil straightened up and glanced off to the side, a bored expression as he drawled out, "I assume you didn't come here just to visit _little old me_." His blue-clouded eyes turned to her and Larry. "After all, you have a museum to run I suppose."  
  


She placed her hands on her lap, hiding her palms turning white.  
  


Letting out a ragged cough, Larry looked away before he turned to him. "Cecil, we're here to try and testify your sentence... If you hand over some information-"  
  


Larry was about to continue but was cut off by a soft chuckle.  
  


Rowena stared blankly at him.  
  


"Ah... you told him. Didn't you, my dear?" At that very moment, it seemed her stomach filled with a very foul feeling - churning up to her throat.  
  


She gritted her teeth behind her lips and did not react openly. But when she saw Cecil's eyes flash to nothing but glee, Rowena wished there weren’t a barrier so she could have punched the very grin off his face.  
  


' _Calm down, Rowena_.' She scolded herself.  
  


Cecil hummed, "Very good, _very good_.” He stated, “So, he knows why."  
  


"Yeah." It was Larry's turn, openly showing blank expression to Cecil. "That you’re a part of a group who wants to take the tablet and her." He said.  
  


He slung his back against the chair, and Cecil spoke, "I see...and you want to know who they are, and what they want from you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Obviously not the Tablet. It wasn't a key thing they needed, well not anymore that is.”  
  


What did Cecil mean ‘not anymore’?  
  


“But the pendant. That was the prize.” He stated. “However, I don't know what they needed it for..."  
  


Rowena felt a flame flourish from her chest, urging to burst out and latch onto the words she wanted to expel. Her mind was trying to work out the riddle Cecil weaved onto his words in a million miles a second, wanting to try and deduce the conclusion. Though he seemed so smoothed with his speech, Rowena could tell he was playing with her - toying her with lies.  
  


' _But if he speaks the truth, that the people who wanted to kill her was more of a group..._ ' Rowena almost paled and grew cold, knowing that perhaps this person...this group was larger than she thought.  
  


She quickly regretted from hiding her face when she saw Cecil's eyes almost widen in surprise and tutted. "Lady Emilia. Years and years and you have barely scraped the barrel." He rolled his tongue and paused. "I was only an informant. Nothing but an outer circle to the institution."  
  


Larry from across her stuttered, "There's a lot of them? Like a cult?"  
  


"Awful way to put it, but yes." Cecil slowly tilted his head, almost nodding. He was telling the truth. "I met one of the high-ranking officials a few months after I began my shift at the museum. The ordinary man wore a tidy suit and briefcase. Not a hair out of place."  
  


Rowena spoke, "What was his name?"  
  


"He never called his name, he called himself the _Lion’s Apprentice_." Cecil shook his head. "A correspondent to his leader which controls this part of the world."  
  


' _This part of the world_ ,' She refrained from gulping the growing anxiety. ' _That means it has grown_...'.  
  


Rowena then asked, "And what did he tell you?”  
  


Cecil, a little bit surprised at her calm demeanour, explained with a cough: "They wanted the tablet of course, but as of not at the very moment. They wanted me to protect it until it's the right time." He paused to look away to the empty wall. "They weren't specific, I'll tell you that.”  
  


“Well no shit, Sherlock.” Larry snipped.  
  


“As I wasn't… branded entirely, I was somehow able to carry the Tablet and study it.” Cecil paused. “Unfortunately, not in your sake. He spoke of Horus, in very distaste."  
  


Her eyes snapped to his at the name. She saw his hand slowly creep up to his neck, oddly touching the back of his in a lingering manner.  
  


She could feel Larry's confused gaze at her. He questioned: "Horus, who's Horus?"  
  


_'One of the pantheon gods of Egypt. He was the son of Isis and Osiris. Osiris was cut up and forced to protect the dead in the afterlife. Horus then fought against Set, the god of chaos. Isis and her sister found Osiris and put him back into place.'_ Rowen thought to herself.   
  


‘ ** _The Ennead._** ’  
  


She remembered all those mythology stories she had compiled in that library in Europe. The first time she was trying to find a cure to her immortality. Perhaps all that research was not thrown to waste after all. She then narrowed her eyelids and murmured, "I... This isn't anything useful Cecil."  
  


He returned his hands over his lap. "You expected too much from me then. All I wanted was to bring the pendant back to them, get my fair share of wealth. I was in a desperate situation, young and uneducated-"  
  


He was cut suddenly, as the echoing sound of the table filled the room.  
  


Both men had leaned back from their seats, jumping in shock at the slamming of glass.  
  


Her hand against the glass panel.  
  


"You think this is a game? You are merely a child to my eyes. I have seen what they have done, trying so far to kill me throughout my life!" Rowen hissed, face inches from Cecil's. "I will find what you are hiding Cecil Fredricks, even if it takes for you to rot in a cell or a museum. Anywhere."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XII  
  
**

**_2006 - New York City_   
  
**

To say that he never saw anything like this, Larry would be saving his own mentality.  
  


He watched Rowen (her name was actually Rowena, but he decided to use Rowen for the sake of others) leave the room, composing herself with a deep breath and having her head up.  
  


Larry followed soon minutes later, spotting the woman dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and boots. She was looking away, wiping the back of her hand onto her eyes.  
  


Larry stopped.  
  


' _She's crying_ ,' he gulped back and wanted to comfort her, though once he said that to himself - she began descending the stairs down to the sidewalk. He quickly thanked the police guard and rushed down the steps of the building.  
  


He spluttered out, "Rowen! Rowena!"  
  


She stopped, and Rowen glanced up. There was no hint of her crying from what Larry saw, only anger which he already saw too much of today.  
  


"What did he say?" She asked.  
  


Larry paused, almost trying to debate whether to tell her what Cecil warned him of. She saw the concerned face of his friend, almost moved by a mixture of empathy and genuine friendship that he was almost wanting to be honest. But deep inside, the words Cecil gave him was the truth, and it made him see something else. Rowen had a past, and he doesn't entirely know what she did during the time of her death and present time.  
  


The best way was to observe. "Nothing. Just told him that we'll have a lawyer through." Larry told her and asked. "And what was that? Why did you-"  
  


A hefty sigh left her lips. "I did that to frighten him," Rowen answered.  
  


Rushing down to her step, eye level to her, Larry exclaimed: "Frighten him? You threatened him!" He stuttered out, "Man, that scared me. Y-you...You can't just be like that!"  
  


With a silent response, she raised an eyebrow back. Did she not know what he meant?  
  


He let out a ragged breath and tried to calm himself down, trying to find words but to no avail. "I mean...like. Ugh.” Larry explained, “I know Cecil was wrong, but we have to find another way! Rowen?"  
  


Rowen stared back; a deep stern reply came out. "I can't apologise to you to what I did." She exhaled. "But I will say sorry for not warning you."  
  


"You weren't thinking straight. As if..." He trailed off, wanting her to finish it.  
  


But then again, she tilted her head to the raised, "What?"  
  


"Never mind." He shook his head. Larry looked over to her as she glanced out into the city. It confused him, ' _Didn't she think what she did was wrong?_ ' Larry wondered and thought again. ' _I guess she did grow up in another decade...or century. Man, that still sounds weird._ '  
  


Luckily, he was pulled from his thoughts when Rowen called out, "I'll need to conduct some research, find what he meant more a worldwide cult that wants my pendant."  
  


Humming in agreement, Larry then asked again. "What did he mean about Horus? Gods and stuff? Do you think this magic is even greater than the tablet?" After all the talk about tablets, pendants and cults - his own head was trying to comprehend everything that has happened these past few months.  
  


In his mind, logic ruled him out that magic was not real. Then, six months working in the museum that came to life every night took that logic and tossed it out of the window.  
  


But to hear that there was a whole world organisation (he should not call it cult out in public) wanting the tablet and Rowen made him shudder. Though, Larry wondered how they would use it.  
  


Rowen and he slowly walked down the steps, letting her explain. She paused to look to him, a pondering expression on her face. "If magic is involved, it means mythology is involved. I'll try and find some more. But at the moment, I'm tied for time with everything else."  
  


He could easily see the unease Rowen was beginning to show, and he carefully placed his hand onto her shoulder. Her body froze at the touch, her face glancing up at him.  
  


Larry reassured her, "Hey- we'll find it out. I will help you protect yourself." He cracked up a grin, "But Rowen, just give me a heads up when you get pissed off, okay?”  
  


A small hum in return, Rowen replied. "I will try." Her hand touched his and her face softened. Rowen murmured. "Thank you."  
  


When they parted ways from the police station, his thoughts never stopped lingering away from what happened that morning. The whole business with Cecil and the robbery was one thing he needed to sort out, which he told himself thousands of times.  
  


He would have to choose between his morals and his new friends.  
  


He already consulted with Dr McPhee, who did not care unless the museum would have a large impact on it. Then there was the meeting with the exhibits. Some completely wanted the night guards gone (mainly Ahkmenrah, Jedediah and Attila), and some who saw that the night guards did not pose too much harm during the disaster that night.  
  


Seeing the pharaoh concerned, but not angry at the situation, made Larry slightly worried. Though perhaps it was reasonable for him to hate them since they did imprison Ahkmenrah for over fifty years. And then there was Rebecca and Nick, and they seemed too conflicted to even choose a side. The last person to think about was Rowen, and Larry already knew what her decision was on the night guards. Though not without good reason, and her position for both issues.  
  


Larry watched the museum come to life once more that evening, thinking again what he should have said to Rowen. What Cecil had said when she left the room.  
  


The memory was very vivid.   
  


_"You are a good man, Larry Daley. But perhaps too good." Cecil tapped his fingers over his hand. He gave Larry a hardened gaze. "People like her have walked this earth for too long. You don't see the danger they pose to mortals, their knowledge. They have lived enough to know the power, and how to use it."  
  
_

_"Then you don't know her." Larry did not know where that came from, but his voice - loud and clear - snapped back.  
  
_

_"And neither do you." Cecil was taken back in Larry's reply and said. "It's not a threat. It's a warning. There will come a time when Emilia Darcy will turn against all of us."  
  
_

_He stood up, swallowing the ball in her throat. Larry spoke, "Thanks for the advice, but I know a good person when I see one."  
  
_

Nick cut him off his thoughts, yawning when he ran to his side. His son decided to visit that evening and perhaps didn't have caffeine adults have. Picking him up, head resting upon his shoulder - Larry carried him to the staff room.   
  


He already made his choice, and Larry only hoped Rowena would forgive him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	16. Interlude: Fairytale of New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The museum prepares for their first Christmas together, having to be explained by both Larry and Rowen as they decorate the place. Leslie and Rowen bond over some dress shopping.
> 
> Meanwhile, Ahkmenrah reminisces his memories of the festivity during his time at Cambridge. And we also meet a new face during the holiday.

** Larry XII  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

"How exciting, our first ever Christmas!" Teddy sighed happily, placing down a cardboard box on the reception desk.  
  


That evening, the whole museum was on their normal routine, keeping to the same places as the exhibits usually were. Since it wasn't a Friday night, where the parties lasted an hour to sunrise, Larry and Rowen decided to give the exhibits something else for them to experience.  
  


Larry smiled at the joyful expressions the president wore, taking a holy wreath and garland out of the box and draping it over the desk. In his hand was another cardboard board, blowing away the small layer of dust. He didn't realise that the miniatures decided to come out of the Diorama room that night, not until he heard tiny coughs from the desk.  
  


He quickly apologised to them before Octavius waved him off, brushing his uniform with a quick pat. He then eyed Larry with an incredulous expression. Octavius asked, "What is Christmas, Larry?"  
  


He stared back at the Roman with a plummeting thought.  
  


' _Out of all people...you asked?_ ' He wanted to sigh in frustration.  
  


He had to stifle back the laugh before he could answer truthfully. Larry explained with a slight stutter, "W-well, it's...it's when we celebrate the birth of _Jesus Christ_."  
  


The small Roman general's face lit up, remembering something from his thoughts. He exclaimed, "Ah! The man that had twelve followers and created a cult!"  
  


He spluttered out a cough to hide his laughter, quickly glancing away. Only then Larry spotted both Rowen and Ahkmenrah walking towards them - a box each in their arms.  
  


Whenever he looked at them, there was still tension lingering in the air between the two. Though months have passed, and Rowen's stiff and rigid posture relaxed around Ahkmenrah. Her eyes laying over the pharaoh much longer with less guilt.  
  


He remembered when Rowen told her of her unusual friendship with the pharaoh, which Larry could understand easily. Sending your friend halfway across the world, unbeknownst that he would be trapped in his coffin for most of his time was not something to resolve over a year.  
  


It was an awkward conversation to uphold the moment Larry blurted the question out one time during their usual lunches.  
  


_“So how do you know Ahkmenrah?” He questioned, and then immediately regretted.  
  
_

_They were in Rowen and Leslie’s home, having each a plate of fajitas in front of them. They had finished a night’s worth of work and sorting out some plans to get the exhibits hyped for Halloween.  
  
_

_The petite woman paused during a bite and stared at him. It was another second until she cleared her throat. “We…we met at Cambridge University.”  
  
_

_Larry let her continue.  
  
_

_And she did. “I was a professor in History and Archaeology at the college for several years. British Antiquities was offered a chance to exhibit the treasures of Egypt which included Ahkmenrah and the Tablet. The university was then offered to examine the finds and study Ahkmenrah and his parents.” Rowen explained, “It was…a shock one night which I stayed late for work that he – as well as his parents – came to life each night.”  
  
_

_“It was a shock.” She took a breath. “I couldn’t really comprehend if it was real or not. But then time passed…And I realised our time was gone.”  
  
_

_Larry tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” He asked, “You seem like you didn’t know.”  
  
_

_“I did know.” Rowen’s tone dripped with guilt. “And I still didn’t try enough to stop them from taking him away.”  
  
_

_With a sad smile, he spoke: “You shouldn’t hold the blame to something.”  
  
_

_“People say that to me all the time.” She bitterly replied and scoffed. “No matter what, our minds tend to go blaming ourselves.”  
  
_

_“Even if it’s been almost sixty years?” He questioned.  
  
_

_Rowen drank a glass of water before she answered: “Nothing can compare on the burden I’ve been carrying for those years.”  
  
_

_Larry didn’t say anything, unsure how to respond on the ominous comment she gave him.  
  
_

However, what he expected from the pharaoh that was pure hatred and disgust didn’t seem to occur. In fact, it seemed Ahkmenrah was handling well. The only person of the two that seemed to want to be closer to her than anyone else.  
  


The other person would be his son, Nick. Both his son and the pharaoh were a duo to hold, which Larry was thankful for. The two would constantly play with Rexy, riding the dinosaur around the museum when he was too busy looking after the exhibits.  
  


Though surprisingly, Rowen and Ahkmenrah appeared to be harbouring the same cheer of the museum, both plastering a small smile on their lips. Larry almost wanted to raise eyebrows and ask them what they were talking about before they got here, but simply told himself that it was just his thoughts forming ideas.  
  


Rowen had picked up the last part of their conversation, and said: "Actually, it's one of the biggest religions in the world."  
  


"Oh...I see." Octavius trailed off, saddened by the comment. Larry then realised why and felt bad for seeing the Roman know that his religion is now based on mythology.  
  


The museum curator began taking out several piles of baubles. It clattered over the table, rolling pass the miniatures. "And it's also when Father Christmas comes to good people and give presents on the night before the twenty-fifth of December," Rowen spoke, looking at Ahkmenrah with a curt nod.  
  


He hid his surprise when the thought hit him, noticing how Ahkmenrah seemed to be familiar with Christmas. Larry could only assume Rowen already told the pharaoh before, and perhaps during their first meeting together decades back.  
  


Larry then beamed, wanting to also express his own knowledge back: "I also celebrate Hanukkah. Half Jewish and all."  
  


Ahkmenrah's ears somehow perked up at the mention of the word. "Jewish? We had Jews at my time of reign."  
  


Larry was about to open his mouth to speak but then took a flicked his head at the curator.  
  


He then saw Rowen's eyes widen, and she stayed silent, lips tightened.  
  


Smirking, Larry gestured to her, "Why don't you explain to him about that, Rowen?"  
  


A sour look crossed Rowen's eyes before she rolled her eyes back. She retorted. "I think you should, considering your family are-"  
  


Larry flashed a warning look to his friend, causing Rowena to raise her hands in defence.  
  
  
She sniggered back, "You brought it up, Daley."  
  


Octavius brought them back to the conversation. "Alright, so this Christmas. What does this father of Christmas do?"  
  


Rowen huffed out and began explaining: "Well during the year, he watches over the world and checks to see if each person is either naughty or nice. If they're naughty, they usually get coal for Christmas."  
  


With raised eyebrows, Larry chuckled. "That was during Victorian times, Rowen."  
  


Batting the strand away from her face, Rowen's cheeks tinted slightly pink from his view. She sheepishly replied, trying to return to her explanation. "Ah yes, my bad. Well, I remember in the seventies we didn't have coal. Not with all those riots happening in the North-"  
  


She paused when he raised a brow at her. She could only clamp her lips shut, stopping herself from rambling on with something neither the exhibits knew off - or even Ahkmenrah for that matter.  
  


Octavius blinked and wanted to continue the conversation. "Okay, continuing. What do people get if they're nice." The roman made a clear emphasis on the last word, almost unfamiliar with it escaping his mouth.  
  


Even when Jedediah was beside him gaped in a weird shocked and disgusted look. Larry was enjoying the moment, not even regretting this conversation with the exhibits. Teddy was looking with content, too busy trying to use the rest of the exhibit's time by ordering to put stuff around the museum.  
  


It was his turn to explain. "Well: they get the present they wanted. You can write a letter to him and if you've been good this year: you get your present." Larry replied briefly, having remembered the time Nick sent several letters to Santa Claus. At some point, he should really tell his son that Santa wasn't real (though, maybe Nick already knew and perhaps wanted more presents either way).  
  


Jedediah batted his hand and scoffed: "Seems easy-peasy."  
  


"Father Christmas, why is he called that?" Octavius asked.  
  


Larry rambled loudly, "Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Saint Nick-"  
  


Someone interrupted his words. "Nick Daley is a Saint?" Ahkmenrah asked, a curious expression on his face.  
  


"No, he means a different Nick, Ahk."  
  


"So that is decided. We will prepare for the arrival of this Saint Nick and we will show him that we are good people. Come on Jedediah!" Octavius unsheathed his sword with a mighty cry.  
  


Larry couldn't hide the massive grin forming on his face as he watched the jubilant roman general run off the desk.  
  


Jedediah seemed stunned at Octavius' reaction to this whole ordeal before his blue eyes caught the night guard's. Larry raised an eyebrow before pointing at the direction to which the roman general ran off too - probably to the Diorama room. With a hefty sigh, the cowboy trailed off as well with a grumble.  
  


He glanced over to Teddy, who had a glimmer of mirth in his irises. Asking Ahkmenrah to help him decorate the front entrance, the former president guided the pharaoh away with some garland and baubles. Larry could see the flicker of disappointment from Ahkmenrah. Maybe the pharaoh was planning to spend the whole time with Rowen, and the thought of the two made Larry snort inside.  
  


On second thought, maybe there was something more.  
  


Speaking of the curator, he turned to Rowen - who grinned back.  
  


"Huh…would you look at that..."  
  


He was cut off from his thoughts with her voice. "You don't see a Roman looking forward to celebrating Jesus' birthday every day." Rowen laughed, sending him off as well into a mixture of disbelief and laughter.  
  


He shook his head but couldn't hide his grin. "Not at all."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XV  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

Snow didn't begin falling in the middle of December, but it didn't stop the cold rushing into the city life. Grey clouds always stayed put, giving Rowena some familiarity to the dull weather that matched home. Though nothing could compare New York with its bright lights and ways to make things extravagant and large.  
  


That was why she was hauling numerous bags alongside her body, plopping it down on the ground. She and Leslie were out on the popular streets of the city, buying present and clothes for their respectable Christmas parties and dinners. Today, she decided to buy all of the museum presents - hoping to be their Father Christmas this year with the help of Larry.  
  


After splitting up to go shopping, Rowen was met with a surprised face from Leslie. "Woah what's with the presents?" She asked and pulled out a dress from the rack.  
  


She let out a breathless laugh and answered, "Gifts to the museum staff."  
  


"That much?" She raised an eyebrow, pointing at all the bags she bought.  
  


Her eyes glazed over them as well. There were at least six bags of varying sizes, with several other bags inside one another. If she hadn't called for a chauffeur to take the other bags before she entered the store: Rowena would be bringing a whole store with her. Some of the presents she bought were obviously for people she has interacted since her stay in New York.  
  


A few were for the Carters. They invited her for Christmas dinner upstate, where she knew she would see some familiar faces she has seen through pictures and the internet. She knew Leslie was an only child but didn't stop her having cousins as well as already nieces and nephews.  
  


Then there was Larry and Nick, which she didn't hesitate to already send several of Robert's inheritance from her estate. (Her dear friend wanted to give it to her for her to either keep or give away to his descendants).  
  


Rowena couldn't forget Rebecca, which included some rare books for her dissertation and a recommendation for a publishing company - just to help her friend edge her closer to creating the long-awaited book on Sacagawea.  
  


And lastly: presents for the exhibits. Larry and she decided to half the total presents given to the exhibits (which took Rowena several attempts to tell him that she could have paid for all of it, but the night guard couldn't take it, instead of taking a compromise of halving the expenses). The presents were small and mostly trinkets for them, but Rowena hoped they would appreciate the gift 'Father Christmas' gave them.  
  


Rowen simply replied, "Of course."  
  


"Oh, the joys of having a career." Leslie sang as she pulled a dress off the rack, analysing it quickly before fishing another one out. "You budget things and yet still have enough to buy presents."  
  


She pulled a small smile back, reassuring the doctor in training. "Leslie, you'll be saving lives." Rowena paused. "You're doing a much better thing to the world." ' _Not like me, I'm very much done saving lives and fighting_ ,' She said mentally.  
  


Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and Leslie hummed back: "Maybe...but you're leading the biggest museums in the world at your age." She then turned to the side, holding out a dress in front of her. "Does this look good?"  
  


The dress was tightly fit, with long sleeves and a deep cut in the middle. She pursed her lips, trying to imagine the young Carter wearing the dress. The university was putting on a winter dinner, which Leslie was panicking to choose a dress.  
  


Rowena replied, "I'd say you need to go for the green or navy, not black. It's Christmas." She thought wryly, ' _Not a funeral_.'  
  


They spent the next fifteen minutes, with a shopping assistant trailing behind them, trying to find appropriate clothing for their own respectable Christmas parties. The board of governors invited her to a Christmas party, which was another boring night of her talking to scholars and professors and businessmen. Nothing which she could handle apart from the usual look of underestimation.  
  


Anyways, Richard would be there, and they would be laughing under champagne glasses like old times.  
  


When they were in the dressing rooms, Rowena had popped out of her room alongside Leslie. A long deep red dress fitted over her. Her friend frowned, eyeing her body. "You need to go gold then." She pointed at the golden dress hanging on the rack. "Gold suits you."  
  


_"Gold suits you."  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah stated in front of her,_ _dark_ _brown eyes gazing over her body for a few seconds. His eyes then widened, like a deer discovered in the dark, and stuttered: "I... I-I apologise for saying that Joanna. That was unlike me."  
  
_

_His head turned away, looking anywhere but her.  
  
_

_She felt her cheeks flush when she realised what happened, a small pang hitting against her chest. It was small, but it was present. There were many people who have complimented herself, some more extravagant than others. So why did a pharaoh telling her that a colour suited her made something in her body twist?  
  
_

_Rowena chuckled. "That's quite alright, Ahkmenrah." She then said back. "Gold suits you too." And she gestured at his usual attire.  
  
_

_His face brightened once more; unlike the usual brooding facade he often wore during the nights. When the two would walk around the grounds of the school in either chatter or silence. Somehow it made the feeling in her chest even more painfully twisted into knots.  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah_ _laughed softly, his voice ringing into her ears in chorus. "It is the only thing I wear nowadays; it's becoming rather dull."  
  
_

Her thoughts were finally thrown back to the present, blinking several times. She heard herself say, "Hettie says that a lot." Rowena's eyes never left the gold dress. "And she's always right."  
  


She wouldn't lie about that; her granddaughter did speak along the same lines of the pharaoh when she was younger. When she would be often at galas and parties, trying to keep their family name safe.  
  


Once they got out of the changing rooms, finishing their fittings, Rowena caught Leslie snatching the dress off her hands. "Okay, I'll take that-"  
  


She protested, "Leslie. I can pay-" However, all she got was a stern look, which hauntingly looked too much like Howard's own glowers - which was something common during their time together.  
  


She followed her like a lost lamb, trying to give her a reciprocating glance. But all she got was a smile, watching as the dress was folded into a bag. "And I'm giving you an extra Christmas present," Leslie smirked at her. "Come on, give Carter some slack."  
  


Sighing, Rowena shook her head. Leslie thanked the assistant and cashier before carrying the bag under her hands. She fell into step with her, bags on her as the two trudged out back into the cold.   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah II  
  
**

_**1951 - Cambridge  
  
** _

The winding corridors of the old school were dimly lit with candles and lights dangling from the ceiling, a damp and cold aroma filling the air as he sauntered through one of them. He woke up several minutes ago, aching slightly from the upright position they placed his sarcophagus on. Not the most comfortable position he would be put in, though at least he didn't have to push the lid too much for it to pry open.  
  


His thoughts were cut off when a small cry echoed from behind.  
  


"Ahk! Ahk!"  
  


He turned around on his heels, seeing a small shadow run straight towards him. Unruly soft curls bouncing on her head as she ran, a huge grin gracing her lips. When the two stood in front of each other, Ahkmenrah could sense she had been looking for him for a while now.  
  


Gently nodding his head to a bow, he greeted her as usual. "Good evening, Margaret. How are you?"  
  


In response, Margaret Bates held the edges of her dress and bowed, letting the skirt spread out. He learned that it was called a curtsy.  
  


Smiling back, she answered, "I'm well, thank you." She then piped, "Did you sleep well?"  
  


"I did, little one," Ahkmenrah spoke back, curious at how a child could be so bubbly during the night. He hadn't remembered himself being this enthusiastic at such late evenings.  
  


Margaret gazed up to him, a frown resting on her lips. "It seems awfully dark, Ahk." She asked him with a whisper, "Aren't you scared of the dark?"  
  


' _Very much_ ,' He wanted to say and could feel the waves of memories flood his head. Times when he woke up, wishing the sun could be peeking out of the window once more have vanished into memories of wishing to even see a single flicker of a candle. To say Ahkmenrah was frightened of the dark itself was not far from it; perhaps it was the fear of not seeing the light ever again. Stuck in a tomb or a sarcophagus for millenniums.  
  


However, it was his price. The price of immortality - he almost seemed petty about it. A king that was deemed as the sun of his kingdom, now reduced to a walking corpse in a changing world.  
  


He gulped before replying. "I have gotten used to it."  
  


"I'm scared of the dark." There was a nervous look on her but changed when she mentioned back: "But Mamma keeps a candle by my side - in case the evil spirits get me."  
  


Margaret made him remember too much of his childhood, who heard too many tales of magic and evil spirits. But his mother was always there to soothe his fears, no matter how busy she would be.  
  


However, the idea of family was different now. Joanna worked in Cambridge as a scholar, who taught students at around his age. But due to her demand, he saw that she didn't have time to care for Margaret. He would only see Margaret several times of the year, and the rest she would be back in London learning as well at another institution. The idea of being so far away from family even got Ahkmenrah worried for the small child.  
  


"Sometimes it is alright to be a bit scared," Ahkmenrah crouched down, his face level with hers. He tucked a strand of hair behind Margaret's ear and spoke, "It means that you're going to do something really brave."  
  


Tilting her head to the side, he saw her try to form a smile. She didn't seem to understand what he meant, though tried her best to by the furrowed brows Margaret had on her face. Once she changed the subject, Ahkmenrah stood back up and felt his hand being pulled. He then asked where her mother was, and perhaps his parents too.  
  


Margaret answered: "She's with your mamma, Ahk. They're setting a lovely dinner for all of us."  
  


"Really?" He said surprisingly.  
  


"Yes! There are dates, not really fresh, and some tea and cake. And bread! All for our Christmas dinner." The young girl babbled as they walked. She was wearing a dark green dress, with some cotton material covering her legs (stockings if he recalled) and some white laced shoes.  
  


He stayed quiet listening to Margaret explain once more about the special day they were celebrating. Christmas seemed to be a very cheerful festivity, which involved much green and red decoration surrounding the school grounds. Large dark green trees which he never saw in Egypt, as the only trees he had seen were talk and slim, with protruding long leaves.  
  


Ahkmenrah absorbed as much information as possible, asking her what several words meant in English to extend his knowledge of the language. Some of the words couldn't be translated in his head, so he decided to take the young child's word for it (and probably ask Joanna if it was correct).  
  


"What did you ask this Father of Christmas for?" He asked her once they rounded the corner. Everywhere in the university seemed the same, with grey stone walls and dark wooden doors and glass.  
  


"I want this book." Margaret described, "Mamma has it, and it's in her private library but she says it's too old and it might get ruined."  
  


Ahkmenrah replied, "What book?"  
  


"Mamma showed me before, I don't know the name, but it has your words. And it’s not English." Margaret scrunched her face, trying to remember the name of the book she was describing.  
  


He assumed what she meant and piped back, "Hieroglyphics?"  
  


With wide eyes, she nodded eagerly and exclaimed, "Yes! That’s it.”  
  


Margaret skipped and continued speaking.  
  


“It's so beautiful, with its stories about all these kings and queens like you, Ahk! I just wish I have a copy..." Her voice ended with a sigh, a regular thing he would hear from his small friend.  
  


Ahkmenrah smiled back, a glimmer of mischief forming in his mind. He said, "Maybe your mother might give you a go and read it? When you're older."  
  


"Perhaps. But if I write a letter, I hope he gives me the book." Margaret replied and then changed the subject, continuing their walk to the conservation room.  
  


An idea formed in his head and Ahkmenrah simply placed it in the front of his mind. He would approach Joanna about it, and maybe assist this Father Christmas to create little Margaret's present.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**2006 - New York City  
  
** _

On the evening of Christmas day, Ahkmenrah pried open his lid with bandaged hands. A whole year of being free still irked him when waking up every evening, assuming once more that the old night guards would keep him in again.  
  


But since that night, when Larry Daley of Brooklyn allowed him out - the fear has lessened to some extent. And by that, he had stopped having odd breathless moments. Rowen called them to be panic attacks, which Ahkmenrah simply agreed to have been. The exhibits have been kind, wary at first, but not cruel to his presence.  
  


At first, Ahkmenrah couldn't forgive Teddy for all those years alone in his death bed, but the man kept watch of him when Larry could not - always waiting for him at the entrance of his exhibit with Texas. As time rolled through, Ahkmenrah felt the tension fade - with the eager help of both Larry and Sacajawea at hand.  
  


Much like this time, he found the former leader grinning like the Cheshire cat from Margaret's old stories, patting his hand on his shoulder and greeting him a merry Christmas. The two ventured down to the main entrance, seeing the rest of the exhibits wish them a merry Christmas, adorned in colourful hats.  
  


As Ahkmenrah panned his eyes over the balcony, his mouth slightly opened in awe.  
  


It was like seeing a whole new room, adorned by various shades of red, green, silver and gold. The large revolving globe had garland wrapped around it, with baubles hanging from the walls. In the corner nearing to the west wing was a large Christmas tree, a star on top with decorations surrounding its leaves.  
  


' _Oh, how you would love this, Peggy_.' Ahkmenrah said to himself, shaking his head before hurrying down the steps - still trying to be graceful as possible.  
  


Dexter and his family zoomed past, a group of zebras trailing behind the capuchins as they entered the main room. Standing by the tree was Larry and Rowen, passing presents from under the large tree. They were wearing very bright jumpers, with some patterns weaved on them. On top of Larry's head was a red cone hat, with a small white ball sewn at the end of it which flopped to the side.  
  


When he greeted the two of them, Larry patted his shoulder and past him a large box. An anticipated emotion filled him, and he felt like being a child once more - receiving a small present from his parents.  
  


Most of the exhibits began opening theirs, with many expressing their glee as they held their present up and showed them around.  
  


"Dum-dum got big gum-gum! Santa knows dum-dum."  
  


"Incredible! What beautiful maps! This Saint Nicholas knows, Signora Rowen."  
  


"Great Scott! Look at this! A polishing set."  
  


"I've got a new set of herbs and spices to try out. And a lovely case for them."  
  


"Whoopie! I've got myself some new boots and a gun."  
  


Ahkmenrah placed his box down and unwrapped in slowly. Tuck in some thin paper was something he has not seen in quite a while. Before he could pick it up to show, a voice called out from next to him.  
  


Jedediah leaned over Octavius' shoulder and asked out loud: "What did you get, toga boy?"  
  


"Great Jupiter, this Father Christmas gave me the thing I have desired." Octavius gasped, "A new blade and helmet!" He placed the new helmet on his head and thrust the sword in the air.  
  


Both the night guard and Rowen grinned in Ahkmenrah's view, somehow sharing some secret message to each other. He could only assume they knew what the Roman general would get, and he quickly joined the two connections.  
  


Once Octavius' jubilance died down slightly, he asked the two: "What did you two get? Larry? Rowen?"  
  


Larry held a white envelope, shaking it with a grin. "Santa got me some sweet cheques. Money to kickstart my company." He glanced over to Rowen, who looked away whimsically.  
  


Eyeing her with a gaze, Rowen looked at Ahkmenrah and smirked back. She gave him an innocent look, which he raised an eyebrow at.  
  


' _So, it seems you thought of the idea_ ,' He thought. ' _Though, I'm not sure what a cheque is_.'  
  


Nick out of nowhere, leapt from behind the reception desk, a small car and remote in his hands. The boy peered over his father, before beaming back, "That's great, Dad!" Nick gestured to the dinosaur, "Come on Rexy, let's try out your present.”  
  


A roar echoed the museum, and he felt the floor vibrate as the dinosaur moved out, following the younger Daley down into the rest of the museum. Ahkmenrah returned to his own present and took out a small contraption. It was made from metal, with a black wire coming out of it - off little buds at its ends.  
  


The night guard spoke, "You really couldn't."  
  


Rowen waved her hand and swatted Larry's arm. "And I did, Larry. I don't want to get rid of you just yet, but I can't thank you enough without helping you one way or another."  
  


"Hey Ahk, what did you get?" Larry eyed his present, a certain glint of merriment in his face.  
  


Slowly, Ahkmenrah held it out and answered: "This small contraption...what is it?" He questioned.  
  


Larry pointed out and explained, "An MP3 player. You can put music on it and play it with headphones."  
  


"I see." Ahkmenrah nodded, and he felt his lips widened into a smile. "And I also got this..."  
  


He took out the musical instrument from the box and ran his fingers over the wood and strings. There was a sense of familiarity, the same shape and weight. If he closed his eyes, he might've been transported into his memories once more, sitting in his old bed chambers - playing a quiet tune in the evening.  
  


"A...lute?" Larry called out.  
  


Ahkmenrah corrected him, "A lyre. Like a harp, Larry."  
  


"Ah, okay." He nodded, but then turned to his side where Rowen was taking her present out of its wrappings. "What about you, Rowen?"  
  


Holding a similar envelope, Rowen answered: "Father Christmas got me tickets to see a Broadway musical: Wicked." She gave a sincere expression back. "I'm impressed you knew my taste, Daley."  
  


"I had a bit of help." The night guard shrugged his shoulders and glanced over to Ahkmenrah. He quickly hid his smile by looking away towards Teddy and Sacagawea.  
  


"You guys enjoy your night; I'm going to check the rest," Larry informed them and left the main entrance - torch and keys in tow.  
  


A few seconds later, he then heard Rowen call to him. "Ahk, I think you left one present under the tree."  
  


He looked at her incredulously before following her figure walking to the tree. A small box was hidden under the tree, a simple white box with a white ribbon tying it together. Walking over to him, Rowen placed it onto his hands and Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows. He then noticed a small tag under the bow, a note written on the other side.  
  


> _**To:** _ _Ahk,_
> 
> _Merry Christmas_
> 
> _**From:** Peggy  
>   
> _

He stared at her, and all Rowen could say was: "Open it."  
  


Removing the ribbon off the top, he lifted the lid off and was cut off from his breath.  
  


_A sly look was on his face when he placed the present in her hands. Ahkmenrah said, "Now it's your present, my little one."  
  
_

_She looked at him with confusion and curiosity, the same brown eyes - with speckles of blue near the irises. Margaret asked, "What is it?"  
  
_

_"Something you wanted very much." He softly replied.  
  
_

_They were all sat around a table, with him by Margaret's side, his parents sitting on the ends whilst Joanna sat across them. He looked over to Joanna, who hid back a smile as her daughter ripped the wrappings off in a rushed manner. Once a speck of brown leather was shown, Margaret's eyes widened, and she gasped out loud.  
  
_

_"It's the book! And it's new." She breathed out and opened it, flicking through the pages.  
  
_

_He had a wide grin on his face, only turning to the voice of his father asking him: "Ahkmenrah, did you copy it all out?"  
  
_

_"Yes, father. For young Margaret to learn about our people much like Joanna." Ahkmenrah explained himself, earning a curt nod of approval.  
  
_

_His mother was more enthusiastic and gushed over him. "That is wonderful, my son."  
  
_

_"Thank you so much Ahk! You're wonderful." He was caught off guard, as the small girl leapt into his arms and tightly wrapped herself against his chest. His heart swelled too much and Ahkmenrah wasn't sure if the room was warm or it was himself.  
  
_

_He placed Margaret back onto her chair and then gestured to Joanna. "Your mother helped as well. I'm sorry Father Christmas didn't get what you wanted."  
  
_

_Margaret quickly answered, "That's alright. You’re like him as well. You give such a good gift to people." She then took out a box and placed it in front of him.  
  
_

_Raising his brows, he asked her. "What's this?" Her face showed him urgently to open it, and he obliged - taking off the lid to find a small doll placed inside.  
  
_

_She explained quietly, "It's my doll, Polly. If you're afraid when you sleep, Polly can be there when I'm not."  
  
_

_"Thank you...thank you, Margaret-“  
  
_

_“Peggy.” She stopped him. “All my bestest friends call me that.”  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah’s heart should have burst as he said. “I will treasure it forever.”  
  
_

Wrapped in some paper in the box was the small doll.  
  


"Polly..." Ahkmenrah breathed and stared at it.  
  


The doll was the same as the one he last saw. Soft against his palms, he studied the doll closer. The hair was made of wool, woven into strands with a bow tied at the end. The doll wore a red coat, with white stockings and a blue dress and shoes - all made by the same material.  
  


"Still intact after so long. I snuffed it out before they moved you." Her voice was soft in his ears. "I thought you'd like it back." Tilting her head up to him, Rowen’s eyes seem to glimmer from the light.  
  


Ahkmenrah said tenderly, "Thank you, Rowen. This has been a good Christmas yet again."  
  


"I never got to really thank you, but I am glad you were in her life." She curled her lips inwards, her voice strangled by emotion. "You gave her the kindness and light I couldn't give."  
  


Placing his hand over hers, he replied: "I should be thanking you. You've brought your daughter and trusted us to keep her safe. That is something I was never given." Ahkmenrah told her smoothly, "Trust to rule a land is difficult...But trusting to protect something most precious to you is harder. I will treasure it once more."  
  


He brushed the woollen hair of the doll back and cradled it against his chest.  
  


Rowen pursed her lips and chuckled. "Good. Because she said that whenever I meet you again, I'll give it back." She gave him an amused look. "Said you couldn't sleep without it."  
  


He wrapped Polly around his arms, protective of the doll. Ahkmenrah stumbled in his words, "I can sleep without it... _but_ I'd much rather have Polly with me."  
  


"I see." She simply said and he gave her a stern look before sighing heavily with a wry smile.  
  


Sometimes things never change, despite being so old for his own sake. Even little trinkets like Polly, like Peggy, kept the fear away from seeing darkness once more.  
  


Ahkmenrah then eyed Rowen, before placing Polly back into the box for safety. He carefully pulled out the lyre once more, testing the strings if they were in tune. It has been quite a while since he has played. But after he tried a couple of tunes, Ahkmenrah remembered and grinned to himself.  
  


He then gestured for Rowen to sit, who quirked a brow back. "I have a present as well. I will play you a song." Ahkmenrah said as he sat on the top of the table with Rowen by his side, playing a soft melody.  
  


"What about." She asked those wonderful brown eyes that had captivated him since that day in Cambridge.  
  


Ahkmenrah answered, “A song about two kindred souls meeting again after many years."  
  


Rowen stayed silent, but never glanced away the moment Ahkmenrah began plucking the strings of the instrument.  
  


There, the immortal curator and the pharaoh enjoyed an evening of joy, love and festivity. All their worries were washed away by the beauty of the music, and the vibrant atmosphere the American Museum of Natural History radiated.  
  


All was well...for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is the end of Part One. I have got to say, it was amazing writing through that rather swiftly and I think I got most of the plot kind of rounded. We've got our main characters established (which is going to be Rowena, Leslie, Ahk and Larry at this time). There will more perspectives in the second part so stay in tune.
> 
> On the note of the next part of the story, I think I will be delaying my update schedule for the moment so I could catch up on editing and writing. I am exactly half-way as of writing it but editing just takes longer. I also have something special up my sleeve, just some extra bits you'll love once I get around editing it all.
> 
> Hope you guys have a lovely day/evening. :)
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	17. Part Two: Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of Audere est Facere
> 
> Set two and a half years after Fairytale of New York, it is the start of summer 2009 and Leslie, Rowena and Larry have moved on after the revelation of the museum coming to life - with some more than others. Rowena forgets the date of the museum changes whilst Larry is given the shocking news from Dr McPhee.
> 
> As for Leslie, she and Rowen discuss the meanings of being left behind. Though for Rowen, it means more than just leaving to go on a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part numero dos to Audere est Facere. This will follow on throughout the second movie (Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian) with quite a lot of changes. Of course, the main plotlines are going to be there, but I decided to add some characters, change some character arcs to just fit the main plotline I've planned ahead.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for reading this far. I am glad that you enjoyed part one of the story and I hope you stick with me to the end. I thought it would be best to discuss now what I've got in store since I know this is going to be a really long story by the time I've rounded every character story. Overall, including parts one and two, there is going to a total of four parts to this story. Part two is going to the longest one in regards with word count (which I couldn't exactly decrease since everything's kinda important).
> 
> So yeah, I think that's all for now. I'm trying to get editing done quicker when I'm not doing anything exciting in lockdown. Hope you guys have a lovely day/evening/night. Enjoy! :)

**P A R T T W O**

**~oOo~**

**ib**

[Anc. Egyptian for 'heart'; It was believed to be formed from one blood from the heart of the person's mother. The seat of emotion, thought, will and intention.]

**~oOo~**

**Leslie III  
  
**

_**2009 - New York City  
  
** _

The summer sun was out, peaking through the towering buildings of New York City.  
  


There was a gentle breeze blowing, and the scent of gasoline and fresh-cut grass as she clicked her boots onto the pavement. Leslie's red hair swept against her cheeks; she brushed them away before placing her shades, perched on the bridge of her nose.  
  


With her phone was against her ear, she listened to the voice speaking: "Hey. I'm sorry that I won't be in town for a few weeks." They let out a sigh. "I know I said I'm coming back but they're extending our dig for another month."  
  


Garret's sentence still rang in her ears, the phrase 'another month' repeating in the back of her head. A year already passed since he left for Egypt, an expedition put on by the university for doctorate students. Their year already graduated a year before, apart from herself who continued her medical course for another two more years. She assumed that he would begin working for the museum after school, but when the opportunity was posted by Rowen herself: Garret was eager to go.  
  


Slightly annoyed and a little bit drunk that graduation night, Leslie remembered blaming Rowen out of all people for putting the notion in Garret's head. All the stressful emotions mixed with alcohol led her to believe everyone was leaving her behind. She grew up with a family that stayed together, despite being the only child, and disliked having lost the attention of those she cared for.  
  


However, of course, Garret promised her he would return, and with a simple gesture of a promise got her through the past year. Leslie apologised to Rowen immediately, once she remembered the week after what she said.  
  


"No, no..." Leslie shook her head mechanically, eyeing the road before crossing it. She mumbled back, "That's fine."  
  


There was a pause. "Are you sure?" Garret asked, concern lingering between his words. "You don't sound fine."  
  


' _Of course, I'm not_ ,' Leslie wanted to cry out loud. ' _I miss you; I miss Rowen, I miss having to hear someone apart from Leo in the house for crying out loud_!  
  


Instead, she cleared her throat. "Garret, I'm not going to burst into tears like a wannabe chick." She rolled her eyes and exasperated. "This isn't high school...I just miss you." Her voice quietened at the end.  
  


"I miss you too, Leslie." Her heart swelled at the sincere care and infatuation from him. Garret spoke, "I'll be working back at the museum once I'm back, anyway."  
  


"I know," She answered. "Call me when you're free. Bye..."  
  


Letting Garret end the call, she froze for a few moments.  
  


She could get through another few more weeks without anyone. Of course, she could meet up with people or head upstate to visit her parents. “What the heck are you saying, Leslie?” She told herself. “You’re just being petty now. You can get through a month living on your own again. You can do it, Leslie Carter.”  
  


After recollecting her senses back to reality, Leslie took another heavy breath before placing her phone into her bag. She rounded the next corner, where the buildings seemed to become cleaner and fancier at her taste.  
  


She was heading up to Rowen's house. It had been two years since the museum curator moved out and her boyfriend moved in. The floor Rowen used was redone once more to accommodate a guest bedroom and office space. Remnants of the previous Victorian home was left up in the loft apart from the small expedition photos her family kept up. Though, for almost a year now, Leslie was the only one left in the Carter home, emptier than ever before.  
  
  


She was not surprised by the expensive location Rowen picked. It was the only cheapest place she could get that would get her to the school and the museum. The brownstone was much like hers on the exterior parts, with large front windows and black double doors. There was some slight difference, how the curtains were a dark navy colour and the ornate floral tiles as she got up the steps.  
  


Leslie prepared herself after she knocked, fixing her hair and swallowing her saliva back. The sound of heels hitting wood got louder, and soon the door swung open. At the sound of her voice, she found familiar brown eyes looking at her.  
  


Rowen Bates gazed slightly upward, the pupils of eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. Leslie could not help but smile back, feeling the comfort of the woman's presence.  
  


"Leslie, come in." She stepped to the side with a gesture. "I apologize for the slight mess; my housekeeper is away today."  
  


The house did not change as much since Leslie last been. The whole layout was more open and airier, with white walls and simple painting hung up. The floor was a rich dark brown, with dark grey carpet lining down the hallway. It was like seeing a home from those magazines Leslie's friend Hailey got, who always fawned over having the trendiest things.  
  


Rowen has asked for her help when renovating her new home, and Leslie happily obliged. Her friend wanted a mixture of modern and vintage designs, enough to make it seem homely for guests and herself. Months of painting and trips to stores, the urge of wanting to move in with Rowen was a good indication how well they did.  
  


They headed down to the other end of the house, where an open conservatory overlooked the back garden. Rowen ushered her to sit down on the table and disappeared down into the kitchen. Leslie slipped off her jacket and bag and placed it down, noticing the petite woman return with a tray of tea and biscuits.  
  


"You have a housekeeper?" Leslie asked with amusement.  
  


Placing down the tray, the two passed each other cups and sugar before they settled down. "And the Carters don't?" Rowen raised an eyebrow, a small smirk towards her.  
  


She rolled her eyes back. "Funny, Rowen. And no; my granddad did though." Leslie then changed the subject, and asked: "How are you, Rowen?"  
  


Putting down her teacup, Rowen let out a ragged sigh. Even seemingly tired and wearing 'casual clothing', she still had the air of elegance and sophistication. Leslie wondered how someone at such a young age could be poised but still look fabulous. "Stressed. I have a few lectures this week as well as having to arrange a restoration on one of our exhibits." Rowen explained and bit on her biscuit.  
  


"Which one?" Leslie said between chewing, before realising what she did. She sent an apologetic look back at her friend, to which Rowen returned with a small smile.  
  


"Ahkmenrah's tomb. It just needs a paint re-coating and the carvings just need to be redone." She explained, her phone in front of her. Rowen closed it afterwards and continued. "I asked the board if I could do it considering I have the qualification, but they said they'll have someone else."  
  


Leslie tried to form some response. "Ah. Well, I'm sure it won't be too long. Just a few weeks..."  
  


Then the thought of time passed through her head once more, remembering the promise he spoke of her. Her hand grew numb around the ceramic object, and she placed it down in a shaking manner.  
  


Rowen's soft and satin voice called out to her, "Breathe, my darling."  
  


She did not realise that her friend abandoned her seat and stood beside her. A firm hand over her shoulder. Dark brown eyes stared at her, and intense look that didn't make Leslie uncomfortable. It gave her a warm sensation in her chest.  
  


Leslie refrained her tears from falling, sniffing loudly before drinking another sip of the hot beverage. She glanced over to Rowen, who neither moved nor changed her expression.  
  


"He'll be back." She said though Leslie wasn't sure if she hoped or assured her.  
  


Another sniff came out of her.  
  


“Remember, you are not alone.” Rowen spoke softly. “Even at any age or time or moment, it does not matter that we want human interaction and love. You have your friends and family, remember that.”  
  


Leslie nodded silently and attempted to give her a small smile but paused herself. Her friend somehow already knew what she was thinking and went away once Leslie felt her hand off her shoulder - sitting back down across the table and pouring both another cup.  
  


Thankfully, Rowen was kind enough to dart away from the sensitive topic. They continued talking about anything else. Most of the conservatory was filled by Rowen's voice, who talked about the new things she seen the past week in New York. The new phone released by _Apple_ from the presidential elections soaring through the whole country, even the little things as well. How Larry Daley, Rowen's friend who used to work at the museum, became a huge success and impressed most of the business students at school.  
  


Once Leslie knew she would have to leave as she had another shift this evening, the two cleared the table and tidied up before heading down to the front door.  
  


With a brave face, she sighed heavily and answered back, "I know. Thanks for the tea, Rowen." Leslie continued, "I just needed to talk to someone...in person."  
  


Rowen gave her a sympathetic smile and felt the woman embrace her. Putting on her jacket and bag, she thanked her for considering taking her home by car. But Leslie just needed to have another walk to breathe for a while, and perhaps think less about the empty brownstone she was going in.  
  


Thinking of empty brownstones, Leslie then wondered how Rowen of all people could live in such a large empty home. Despite the beauty and the clarity, it did not appear like anyone had lived in it since the renovation. It quickly made Leslie concerned for her friend, who (unlike herself) was rather reserved than the usual mid-twenties individual.  
  


Rowen spoke back, "Never be hesitant to come to talk to me, Leslie."  
  


Turning around, Leslie finally nodded before taking her leave and descended down the steps.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XVI  
  
**

_**2009 - New York City  
  
** _

Rowena breathed in the fresh air as she got out of her car and locked it swiftly with the key. The sun was up quite high, with thick white clouds dotting the blue sky like cotton. Central Park was as green as it could be, with tourists and residents walking down the paths of trees.  
  


Slinging satchel over her side, she worked her way up to the side entrance of the museum from the car park, pressing her key card on the lock before it let out a beeping sound. Once she was inside, she did what she usually did in routine. Several members of the conservation department greeted her as she walked down the corridor, picking up some conversation about what they were doing today before continuing her journey to her office.  
  


During her time here, the museum changed to some extent. It was livelier, bustling with historians, teachers and apprentices all over the building. Gone were the dull and dark rooms and yellow lights; now there were bright exhibits and modern laboratories mixed amongst the regal Georgian architecture.  
  


However, the museum exhibits themselves still stayed the same - apart from the usual new artefacts coming up. Some new propositions were coming in lately, though Rowena wasn't so sure what it was. She was so busy lately, with the university programme as well as the British Museum that the American Museum of Natural History was almost a small part of her work.  
  


After she sorted several queries in her office, ending calls with simple polite tones, Rowena decided to take a break to check on the exhibits. With quiet footsteps (she began wearing derby shoes ever since the resident animals began following her due to her heels clicking), she made her way to the main entrance.  
  


As she spotted the familiar woman typing behind the computer, Rowena greeted her. "Good day, Rebecca."  
  


Rebecca Hutman's head lifted from the screen, and her face changed to a cheery mood. She said, "Hey! Glad that you took my advice, you look refreshed."  
  


At her look of triumph, Rowena could not help but sigh. Once she arrived at the front of her office this morning, she discovered that her office had been locked. It took her several minutes tracing her short memory before realizing that the docent took her key away. Rebecca wanted Rowena to rest, after last night's fiasco. The museum benches were not something to fall asleep on, with a pile of papers and folders used as a substitute pillow.  
  


As a result, Rowena was forced to go home and sleep before she could work. She found the key dangling on Teddy's fingers at the end of her search, prying it off when no one was looking. "You took my office key that's why." Rowena huffed and placed down her paper file.  
  


When she passed the correct file to Rebecca, the docent gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, but you needed decent sleep." She said, a sympathetic glance over to Rowena.  
  


"I can manage perfectly well, thank you." Rowena spoke defensively and added: "Besides, I have a pharaoh and the president of the United States of America easing the burden off me."  
  


What she said was true: though at some certain degree. A year had past and somehow it only took a year for everything to change so drastically.  
  


Nights at the museum dwindled for her, and Rowena decided to only visit the exhibits at least once a week. It had not helped when the university final exams were coming up in a few weeks, and many students had sent applications for her and Rebecca to sieve through them.  
  


There was a sad expression painted on Rebecca's face as she spoke. "It's been a year, Ro." Her nickname lingered in her head. "They miss him."  
  


Rowena asked her next, "Have you asked him?" Knowing her friend knew more of what was currently happening with their former night guard, Rebecca was the only reliable source.  
  


Larry Daley, the night guard of the museum, had been working at the museum for over two years. He was the only thing that kept the whole place running and flipped the whole place around.  
  


Young and filled with ideas and dreams, Rowena knew she couldn't hold him down for the sake of protecting the exhibits. So instead: she slowly reciprocated his work, giving recommendations to several businesses and investors.  
  


Now: his face was all over the news, with new inventions and products inspired by his time with them. Rowena could not lie of her pride at Robert's grandson, but the realization of Larry moving on was difficult to put aside.  
  


Perhaps she was just being too sentimental about it all. Rowena knew that this was simply a normal occurrence for her.  
  


Shaking her head, Rebecca placed the file back into one of the drawers. "No... he’s been really busy. Erica and I try to balance taking care of Nick if he's in meetings and such." A pleading look, almost a grin cracking at the corner of her lips. "Come on. If someone could bring him here, it'll be you." Rebecca gestured.  
  


She stared over to Teddy, wishing he could be alive for one second for her to ask him for advice. Rowena knew what he would say, and that it was to go and call Larry.  
  


Letting out a breath, Rowena relaxed her shoulders in defeat. "Alright," She answered.  
  


Rebecca smiled gently and nodded. "Good. I've got a tour in ten minutes." Her eyes eyed her phone, the screen showing the time clearly. "What are you up to now?"  
  


"I have conservation." Rowena stood upright once more after leaning against the desk. "Ben wanted some help identifying some of the Egyptian texts." She said. "And something to do with some exhibits being moved."  
  


"I have Attila's weapons primed and tinted just in time." Rebecca informed and pointed out, "Please can you tell him that they can't exactly damage anyone. Unless he breaks it again."  
  


Rowena shook her head, a grin on her face, remembering the moment the Hun tried to use his axe like a baseball bat during their game. The head had fully come off after several rounds.  
  


"I will; don’t worry." She couldn't help but chuckle back. "The first time is alright, but if the conservation team finds it damaged again, I might have to speak with Richard."  
  


"Don't you want him to know? It's been three years for us."  
  


The question almost backtracked Rowena entirely, almost having doubt herself at it. There was a prospect of telling Richard, even after two years working with him. He trusted Larry to do his job after the previous night guards left. It might even benefit the exhibits, who she knew needed someone to lead the reigns on them during the night. She already felt guilty, having to use Rebecca as a substitute when Teddy and she could not do some nights.  
  


"Well, they had a meeting." Rowena lowered her voice, allowing Rebecca to only hear. "They don't exactly want anyone else knowing them until we're fully secure. As well as that, I need to get a new night guard at some point.”  
  


Rebecca agreed, humming back. She then asked, "Oh, how is that going?"  
  


"Haven't found anyone that's trustworthy enough of the secret. Who knows, they could steal that thing again, or tell the whole world." Rowena spoke, a bland and bitter taste in her mouth. She still remembered that night very faintly, and still felt affected by Larry's decision.  
  


Cecil Fredricks should not have been let out so easily from their fingertips. But Rowena trusted Larry, and she kept silent despite disagreeing with it.  
  


The docent got up and placed her lanyard and badge on the front of her body. "I don't think they'll believe it until they see." Rebecca winked, making her smile.  
  


"Perhaps." She thought out loud, Rowena thanked Rebecca for the files she gave her and waved herself off. "Okay, I won't hang around." A group of children behind several teachers came up to Rebecca, to which they began conversing.  
  


Rowena smiled kindly at the curious looks the children had on, eyeing firstly Rexy in the front entrance. Her eyes darted across the room, spotting a few men in dark slacks - each carrying crates in their hands. An expression of confusion formed on her face, and she tried to call when they would be getting new exhibits in.  
  


But then the memory crossed her. It was this week that they were going to move.  
  


And she completely forgot about the date.  
  


Rowena felt her heart grow cold and her fingertips hot to her touch. She grabbed the files tightly against her chest, hiding her discomfort at the sight.  
  


Rowena couldn't bear the growing guilt in her heart as she saw a familiar statue being carried by some of the men around her, Attila’s pose seeming to want to hold something - where an axe should be.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XIII  
  
**

_**2009 - New York City  
  
** _

It was one of his busier days.  
  


The office was at its usual swing, with staff filing in and out of doors. There were people carrying boxes with products, carrying folders of documents and people rushing about with cups of coffee in their hands. Sounds of voices layered the air, creating a bustling noise that could match the streets of New York City.  
  


Larry rushed through the corridors, a phone against his ear as he listened to the executive of a retail company give him details of a deal. His hand grabbed the envelope that was passed into his hands from the mail staff, who he gave a quick thank you. Once he began reading it, he then passed it onto Tina by Reception. He had to excuse himself on the phone when his receptionist informed him that one of his investors kept calling Daley Devices.  
  


After dealing with the phone call and Tina's inquiry, he was only bombarded by Stewart's stuttering voice, a young designer that always seemed too eager at early hours of the morning. But since it was very much the after, Larry was concerned about how he could be energetic...or the amount of caffeine he had. Larry reassured the young man that he would look over the designs before continuing his walk down.  
  


Then out of nowhere, a familiar figure began telling him the news. Ed ecstatically waved his arms, whacking a letter into his hands. Hearing that _Walmart_ had agreed to discuss a deal with them was something to top of his day.  
  


Well...most of his days seemed to merge into one nowadays.  
  


Larry was so busy talking, spitting out ideas and advertising his work that his celebration was mixed alongside the ride. He didn't have time to party and praise himself with his accomplishments. There wasn't any time anymore, unlike a year ago.  
  


Larry had plenty of time to relax celebrate then, and that was almost every week for him. When he was still working at the museum as a nightguard.  
  


' _An ordinary Larry,_ ' Someone once said to him. Larry could not remember who it was, but it kept his lips from twitching from the strained smile he wore that day.  
  


Ed agreed that he would come that night to discuss further things on the deal, even telling Larry that he would cancel his daughter's birthday for it. He only hoped his colleague was just exaggerating. Larry might be dedicated to his work, but he would never abandon Nick for something so common.  
  


' _You're a hypocrite, Daley_ ,' Something in the back of his head told him, as he sat idly in the car. His chauffeur asked him where he needed to go and Larry simply told him to go home.  
  


' _You've abandoned something already. The people who meant more to you..._ '  
  


He now lived in one of the most expensive apartments in Brooklyn, overlooking the city skyline. Nick was so excited when he brought the news to his son and was eager to tell Rowen, Rebecca and the Exhibits about his new room. Larry could not help but smile to himself, finally feeling proud of himself for finding Nicky comfort.  
  


It only took another month to finally pull the question to Rebecca, who had taken his heart ever since he took the courage of asking the docent to a date. After a slow start, with many walks in Central Park and coffees ending with discussions of history: Larry realised he couldn't stop thinking of Rebecca Hutman. Once his business began, he asked her to move in with him and Nick. And to his relief she agreed, loving Nick equally as almost a friend.  
  


Even Erica was impressed by his outcome, who seemed much more surprised to see his success flourish after a couple of years. Of course, Larry couldn't take all the weight. If Rowen Bates hadn't helped him, he would still be a nightguard to this day. All those subtle advice and inflow of advertisement of his projects to investors led him to even have the prospect of Walmart begging to sell his work.  
  


Rowen Bates.  
  


It was a name he kept in his contacts.  
  


Sometimes he would call her. But in the past two months, their calls have turned to texts. Now Larry received barely anything, which he could understand. The ageless woman was busy, running her own museum and being her own success in her story. That was all he could be glad about.  
  


He should be happy.  
  


However, Larry couldn't help but feel something in him that urged him more to discover its strain - why he couldn't be truly happy in the present.  
  


Once the calls stopped, he placed his phone in his inside pocket. His eyes watched the moving world before him and didn't realise they were passing a familiar street.  
  


In front of him was the museum, and there was an immediate pull for him to make the car stop. Larry asked his chauffeur to pull up by the curb and told him that he could go home now. Once he closed the car door, he thanked him once more and watched the car leave.  
  


His feet felt like they were being carried as if he was being pulled into the museum itself. Larry stared upward, the large columns and familiar large sign on the front gave his heart a sudden leap. As his lips twitched, he then felt himself grow into confusion.  
  


There were men in suits, slacks even, carrying crates and signs out from the revolving doors. Once he walked closer, he spotted a hasty poster on the glass door.  
  


> **Closed for Renovations  
>   
> **

Curious and a little more apprehensive, he slipped past through the men and entered the main entrance.  
  


It was still the same place, apart from the stacks and piles of crates scattered around the museum. Rexy the Tyrannosaurus Rex was still there, the first exhibit to have made him almost wet himself before he could scream for his mother. He looked up and smiled, nostalgia filling him. He then wandered over to the familiar statue of the president.  
  


Teddy stood still as a statue, the same pose he has seen every morning. Larry gazed up to analyse him, almost wanting to talk to him already. But sundown wasn't for another twenty minutes, which he knew he couldn't be here for. He didn't work at the museum anymore.  
  


"Hello! Excuse me! Unauthorized personnel!"  
  


He turned to where the voice came from, to then find a familiar man wearing tweed and a bow tie.  
  


Larry slightly tensed, hearing the same man who he had mixed feelings with. The last time he talked with him was when he signed his resignation documents in the director's own office. A frown and unconcerned expression on his face when Larry thanked him for the work, dashing off due to the awkwardness.  
  


Dr Richard McPhee rattled on with hand waving hands. "If it isn't our very own ‘Mister Success Story’. Come for one of your nostalgia tours?"  
  


Trying to form some response, instead, he extended his hand and gladly Dr McPhee took it firmly.  
  


The Director eyed him as if he were curious about what he wore. McPhee pointed out, "I haven't seen in you in a year.” He added, “Or so Rowen says."  
  


"Yeah, I've been busy." Larry tried to explain himself, but then asked. "What's going on here?"  
  


"Progress, so they tell me." McPhee nonchalantly spoke and pressed a button on a large contraption. "The future. Behold, Natural History, version 2.0."  
  


Before his eyes, a blinding light caught Larry by surprise. In front of him was a 3D hologram of Teddy, almost the same size as the wax statue. However, the image moved - slightly robotically.  
  


"Welcome to The American Museum of Natural History, where history comes to life!" A mechanical and choppy voice similar to Teddy's said aloud. "Step up, ask your question. Then let the next little boy or girl have their turn."  
  


Larry hesitantly replied, "Okay, where were you born?"  
  


"Right here in New York City, on Twentieth Street. October 27th, the year of our Lord 1858." The hologram of Teddy responded before he disappeared by McPhee's press of the button.  
  


Larry then answered, "That's great. So, you're adding some new interactive exhibits?"  
  


McPhee gave him a boring look and began walking away, "No, Mr Daley, not adding."  
  


Larry almost froze at the spot.  
  


"Replacing the old exhibits."  
  


He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  


"Where are they going?" He quickly asked.  
  


"Away. We're getting rid of all this junk." McPhee slid open one of the crate lids, tugging out Dexter out of all people by the torso. "The Diorama, the waxworks, even some of the shabbier animals.”  
  


Larry refrained from cringing at McPhee’s careless hold.  
  


It didn’t help him when McPhee sourly said, “Like this scrawny little monkey."  
  


He stretched out, trying to advise the director to put him down. "You should be careful. He's a capuchin." Larry spoke.  
  


"It's a monkey." McPhee furrowed his eyebrows, confusion in his tone.  
  


"He's a rare breed; a capuchin." Larry quickly changed the subject, knowing McPhee wouldn't understand at all. "Whose idea was this?"  
  


McPhee began to saunter once more, making Larry follow him. He said loudly, "Me, of course. I'm in charge.” He continued, “Me and the board...mainly the board. Anyway, why do you care?"  
  


' _Because these are my friends!_ ' Larry wanted to blurt out. ' _Well...probably not friends after...after what happened...but they're my friends, anyways. They don't deserve this._ '  
  


Instead, he answered back. "No, it's just that people love this stuff..." His arms gestured around him. "Rowen and Rebecca love all of this."  
  


"People, Mr Daley, love 'What's next?'" McPhee gave him a hardened look, pointing at Larry. "You should know that. You left."  
  


‘ _Ouch._ ’  
  


Larry winced mentally - trying to prevent himself from darting his eyes away from the harsh truth. "My situation changed." He explained, "My business took off..."  
  


Though, McPhee quickly retorted, "Yeah, you became a success. So would I if I was a night guard."  
  


"So where are these guys going?" He asked once more, trying to mask his desperate voice with a more serious one. But to no avail, Larry had to clear his voice before he could start yapping about the exhibits coming to life.  
  


There was a look of change in the director's eyes, a small fleck of curiosity at him. "Deep storage. Federal Archives." McPhee spoke plainly, "Washington, D.C. _The Smithsonian._ "  
  


' _That's too far,_ ' Larry said to himself.  
  


He then spoke back, "There's got to be something that we can do? Rowen wouldn't have allowed for this happen."  
  


At the mention of his friend, McPhee took a deep breath. He explained, "Dr Bates' position changed just last year to the education department. She's working with NYU and the museum now." McPhee gave him another look of annoyance. "And considering she's working overseas with her own museum: she doesn't have time with running all three at once."  
  


Larry's mind was running a marathon, whilst his heart began to grow colder and colder. This was not what he wanted to greet himself to. What did he do to make this happen?  
  


"It's done! They leave tomorrow morning. It's over." Once McPhee's words echoed in his mind, Larry didn't notice him gone before he could have the confidence to stare back at the exhibits.  
  


He knew he made a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	18. Unspoken Tales and Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return back to Cambridge, which Rowena and Ahkmenrah have a rather specific conversation about Ahkmenrah's family and Rowena's growing conflict of her affiliation with the mummy.
> 
> As for Larry, we come back to the present day when several of the exhibits spend their night at the New York Museum of Natural History for the last time before heading to Washington D.C. Lots of guilt-tripping and lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this yesterday but I completely forgot the date. It seems time during lockdown is very different and relative and it's hitting me hard at the moment. As well as this, I've been grinding to finish part two (yes I've almost written part two and believe me it's weird going back to edit this).
> 
> Another thank you for the hits and kudos. For this, I hope you enjoy a little sweet treat of some intimate moments and cute things Rowena and Ahk did back in Cambridge. ;)

** Rowena XVII  
  
**

_**1950 - Cambridge  
  
** _

The School of History and Archaeology fell to normality very slowly for Rowena since that night.  
  


Those two years held under lock and key have changed for her when the mummy (supposedly the dead king of Egypt) disappeared from his sarcophagus and planned to roam the whole storeroom – then deciding to give her the fright of her life. Nothing has ever scared her before, which was certainly a lie considering she feared the littlest things. Mostly unwanted noises at times of silence, small creatures crawling in places, and the typical superstition her childhood used to drill into her head.  
  


However, having a not-so-dead pharaoh ask to write in his language for them to converse was mind-boggling and terrifying. It was if all her one hundred or so years of living through hell had been a waste. Rowena should have been scolding herself, for being a practical child at it.  
  


Perhaps it was the fact that most of that time, she never encountered anything out-worldly or unlikely than her own resurrection. Ahkmenrah said it himself that magic was in fact real. Did that mean her condition was like his?  
  


Of course, Rowena could not exactly gush out all of her secrets to him the night after. There was still the fog of uncertainty of the pharaoh's personality and motives.  
  


As a researcher: historical texts were far from the truth in some cases if there were truly little work to analyse. And as a supposed king from the Old Kingdom, there was truly little work on considering the evidence were either too hard to decipher or just lost in time. So instead, Rowena compromised: and sought out Ahkmenrah's character first before doing anything.  
  


It would have been much simpler if there was not a language barrier.  
  


Rowena's ancient Egyptian was rusty for a professor in Egyptology, not after the war and all. There was no use of using ancient Egyptian in conversation if the person spoke either French or English.  
  


So, the first several months resulting in grinding down the English language to the pharaoh, who she thanked the gods for having a talent in picking up languages. Hunnish and Hebrew were the other two languages he was able to speak, which Rowena was impressed.  
  


When he first spoke his first sentence in English to her, telling her that his parents were awake at last: Rowena was taken in surprise. Ahkmenrah always initiated their conversations in Ancient Egyptian, where she would have to respond in either writing it or speak back in English. It was tedious much to say, and Rowena could only give up after two months of translating to begin his own lessons.  
  


She was glad that he was a patient teacher, only getting frustrated when Rowena gave up after getting her words jumbled up. There was a lot of shouting and sighing in various languages before they accepted each other's broken apologies.  
  


A year then passed, and the secret of the mummies coming to life every night was kept under the rug by the Egyptology professor.  
  


Of course, a year knowing the royal family had eased the distrust between her and them. Being the one to meet her first, Ahkmenrah vouched for her ability to protect the secret despite the hostility his parents gave her. As a parent herself: she wouldn't easily trust anyone with their child – let alone a royal one (ironically Rowena and Margaret were royalty despite Rowena being not blood-related to the only parents she had).  
  


The scepticism the older pharaoh gave her the first eight months was exceptionally frustrating. Rowena understood it well: they stole them from their tomb and decided to put them up like decoration. The thought almost backtracked all the work Rowena had done in her life, realising the morals of it. But besides that, it was perhaps because she was entirely responsible for making sure they were safe.  
  


Their trust began to seep through when she was able to speak their native tongue confidently to them. It had changed the older pharaoh's mind entirely after Rowena told them that she wouldn't harm their son. That made Ahkmenrah's father bite his tongue down for a few weeks.  
  


The following year was similar, and most of the time she was learning more and more of their culture and vice versa. Only by the summer months of that year was when she slowly began planning the book of her expedition all those years before.  
  


Of course, it would be written by Joanna Bates, not by Emilia Darcy.  
  


She had to remind herself all the time whenever she dipped any ink onto the page.  
  


That evening was much the same. The room was hot, hotter than usual and silent as always. The only sound that was heard was the scratching of her pen, as she copied down her notes neatly from her journals. Rowena was currently in the laboratory, using her desk as a writing table than for analysis. It was much cooler in this room due to all the artefacts out, and that did not include the Ahkmenrah entering the room.  
  


"Good evening, Ahkmenrah." Rowena looked up and gave him a gentle smile.  
  


He returned the gesture and nodded his head down slightly. He had the habit to move to the same place, sitting beside her as if they were doing their lessons once more. Though, tonight was a break from learning.  
  


"How are you?" She began the conversation.  
  


Ahkmenrah replied, "Well, thank you." He leaned down a bit, his eyes wandering over her English notes, some words she had not translated yet.  
  


A strand of dark brown hair fell over his forehead, before he pushed it away, showing his wide round eyes. From the small light coming from the lampshade, there were flints of lighter brown in the irises, matching a similar shade of copper. His skin almost glowed from the incandescent tint, highlighting his jawline. His lips pursed, almost open as he awed at the work.  
  


At that moment, Rowena paused and blinked. She wondered where those thoughts came from.  
  


She had to admit: the pharaoh was shockingly...appealing when Rowena first met him. Considering statues, paintings, and descriptions of Ahkmenrah found in his tomb were limited, she was expecting the typical plain man, nothing extraordinary. And history tended to exaggerate the appearance of their leaders, almost turning them into a god rather than a real person from time.  
  


Good thing she had low expectations.  
  
  
 _Had_ would be emphasised after seeing who was sat right next to her.  
  


"Joanna?"  
  


"Hmm?" Her head glanced back to him and saw him still reading the text – thanking the gods he didn't notice.  
  


' _Stop it, Rowena_.' She scolded herself. She couldn't simply fawn over a man at this time, let alone a man that could only live during the night. ' _You are a hundred and seventy-four years old. You have met many men like him, even more, handsome than him. Don't be a green child_!' She thought.  
  


Ahkmenrah straightened back up, turning to her. "You are writing our family's history, is that right?"  
  


"Yes, yes." She quickly replied, hiding her warm face from him as she leaned down and continued her work.  
  


She turned to an empty page and began copying more of the notes. She could be using a typewriter to make all this easier, but she would rather do this the traditional way. "I'm on my second draft, at the moment. Once I'm done with this double page, we'll go on our walk." Rowena tilted up and smiled at him.  
  


Nodding back, Ahkmenrah let her complete her work. He sat quietly next to her, reading her old notes, sometimes asking for definitions before silence fell once more. They would often do this nowadays when there was not much to do during the evening. Rowena could be at her lodgings instead: sleeping or simply doing work there.  
  


However, sleep was not something Rowena had done efficiently in years. It’s been a long time since she's slept well. Too many memories for her to rest soundly, or maybe it was just something that she got used to – the phrase 'sleeping with one eye open' being too true for Rowena's case.  
  


His presence soothed Rowena somehow, and she wondered if the feeling could only be due to her urge for companionship...or something else.  
  


She snorted at that idea, putting too much stress on the pen nib that it splattered a dot on the page.  
  


Sighing, she continued her writing and ignored the concerned look Ahkmenrah sent her. He began correcting some of the facts and altered her previous notes.  
  


"This does not mention my brother." He murmured.  
  


Rowena, too engrossed with her writing, stopped her pen and frowned.  
  


Turning to him, she noticed Ahkmenrah still eyeing the page on the table, almost frozen in his position. She could easily see the change of mood he wore once his eyes became glassy. He was staring too idly, remembering an overly sensitive memory.  
  


She bit back a cough by catching her lip, remembering all those lessons her governess that told her not to do it. Rowena looked up to him, his shoulders slumping. She knew that Ahkmenrah had a brother; a lot of the texts she has read were rather brief about it. It was as if it was rushed or hidden due to time. It questioned Rowena to no end, after all the years in the desert deciphering notes and comparing details.  
  


But to see the brother of the man she wanted to know was different. There was sadness - no sorrow.  
  


Rowena knew sorrow, and rather too much of it. Though, to see it on Ahkmenrah's face was never something she would see. It was raw and heart-wrenching, that Rowena wanted to embrace the pharaoh. Under the mask of kindness and cheeriness: there was sorrow. It was a mask she understood. As a duchess, as a mother and a sister; as a lover.  
  


For him, she knew it was seeing the betrayal of his brother in memory. Rowena could not ask Ahkmenrah his past with his brother. There was a fine line of between her work and her morals: and this was one them.  
  


Gulping back the bile down her throat, her hand lifted from her pen, and she gently touched his upper arm.  
  


A warm flow crawled up her fingertips as their skin touched. His arms moved slightly as Ahkmenrah turned to face her. Soft and bare, Rowena did not expect him to be warm at her touch. It was stiffened by his muscles, making her blood rush up to her cheeks. She could hear her heart changing rhythm.  
  


And then there were his eyes: sad and startled. Ahkmenrah's eyes caught her own, lips partially apart.  
  


Hiding her nerves, Rowena started: "You don't have to tell me." A breathless and quiet phrase escaped her mouth. "I know."  
  


There was a second after that she immediately regretted what she said. Did he think she knew of his brother? Or did he thought she understood what he felt? In the back of the head (and maybe her heart): she hoped that it was both. That he knew she felt of loss before - and perhaps more loss in the future.  
  


Ahkmenrah tilted his eyes down at her, not daring to look away. They were intense, but not an ounce of anger within him. "You do not know the truth." He faltered on his words, and he quickly looked away. "It's...it's something I am forbidden to tell." He said bitterly.  
  


At that moment, Rowena hadn't noticed that her mouth was open as well, breathing quietly as she could. Her hand placed on his arm was covered by his own, and it sent another wave of heat from her hand up her arm. He took her hand in both of his hands in front of him, covering it as it would break by a single breath.  
  


She murmured back, "Then perhaps it's alright for the world to not know it as of now." Her face returned to his, a small wry smile on her lips. "They could wait for another four thousand years."  
  


Then, something changed in his expression. A sign of respect, perhaps? But it was more than just respect, something Rowena felt too soon...too raw. There was nothing but a feeling of trust in the pharaoh's eyes. He allowed her his trust - and it tore Rowena into a swirl of nostalgia.  
  


He wore the same face as _him_...when she told _him_ that she would never risk her life for _him_ ever again.  
  


_“Please, Joanna.” He pleaded. “Never try risk your life for me, ever again.”  
  
_

_Rowena asked, “Even if there was a chance I could?”  
  
_

_Harry let out a small chuckle and cupped her cheek. “Oh Joanna…my brave and beautiful Joanna.”  
  
_

_A small tear fell down her cheek as he wiped it with his finger.  
  
_

_"I trust you if you trust me,_ _Joanna," Harry said.  
  
_

_She answered back, "I do, Bates. I trust you."  
  
_

Oh how Rowena wished she broke that promise.  
  


Luckily before she could spiral down into a case of memories, Rowena returned by the sound of Ahkmenrah's voice.  
  


"I only ask you for one thing. Sometimes stories are written by the victors, be careful on your research Joanna." He told her – no: warned her.  
  


It was a warning, and Rowena simply knew what Ahkmenrah meant. History liked to be poetic sometimes, and it wished for anyone to find the only glory in it. But for Rowena, history was the truth, and it was to learn from mistakes made by others. Will she choose to accept the facts on the book to hide the pain one king had?  
  


Rowena slowly used her other hand to unclasp his hand. She replied, "I will don't worry." Retracting her hands back, she tried to form a smile once more. "Now, since it's too warm this evening: shall we go on a walk now?"  
  


A sad smile crept up to Ahkmenrah's lips, and that was the only thing that indicated for them to change the subject.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XIV  
  
**

_**2009 - New York City  
  
** _

He waited for the Director to disappear back down the corridor, eyeing the clock every so often with his phone.  
  


Once the light outside dimmed, and he turned on the museum lights, Larry saw the flicker of Rexy waking up. The cracking of bones echoed from where the dinosaur skeleton stood, stretching his whole body before his head noticed Larry's figure.  
  


At that moment, Rexy's tail wagged, like a dog that hadn't seen its owner for the entire day. There was a playful character the dinosaur held, as Larry played with him - a rope he found under the front desk.  
  


As Rexy then bit the other end, a game of tug of war began. And in just a few seconds, Larry cried as he flew across the room, landing harshly onto the hard marble floor. At the sound of his growing, Rexy stomping happily away to explore the museum, the lids of crates began flying around.  
  


The museum came to life once more before his eyes as Larry watched in the middle of the room. Animals and human residents began wandering the corridors, as the birds flew about the ceiling.  
  


"Lawrence! Good to see you, lad!" A booming voice came from his right.  
  


Larry turned to him and could not help but grin. "Yeah, you too, Teddy." The former president shook his hand, firm and composed. Teddy had not changed at all. At that moment, more crate lids began opening.  
  


In one of them, Sacagawea clambered out. She brushed some polystyrene puffs off her tunic before being assisted by Teddy. Her face found Larry's, pulling a grin at him. As the two greeted each other, he noticed more familiar exhibits exiting. Dexter squealed a mixture of cheekiness between white teeth, at Larry before climbing onto his shoulder. As well as this, the Neanderthals howled and grunted whilst the Huns quietly stood by Attila.  
  


Larry sent a curt nod to the leader before he heard a voice coming from the far end of the room.  
  


Exiting one of the larger crates was Ahkmenrah, wearing...well not the ordinary drapes. Instead of his large beaded necklace and long billowing kilt, he wore a black tunic (dress? Larry was pretty sure it seemed to be) with a gold strip of metal guards around his upper arms and a waist belt.  
  


As the sound of sandals hit the marble floor, Ahkmenrah held a large smile on his lips. "The guardian of Brooklyn has returned!" He exclaimed.  
  


"Hey...Ahk." Realising that he was zoning out, he shook his head before holding his hand up to wave back. Larry then turned to Teddy, trying to form his words correctly. "...Look, McPhee told me what's going on around here. I had no idea."  
  


Teddy simply looked at him, a mixture of emotions which Larry wasn't sure it meant to be. But it made him gulp slightly. He pursed his lips and nodded. "Indeed. A lot has transpired, Lawrence, since your last visit. One would say that..." But before Teddy could finish.  
  


The sound of a synthesized bell rung, and it came from his inner pockets. Larry pulled his finger upwards, signalling for them to quieten before answering his phone. Luckily: it had just been a text.  
  


"Cricket."  
  


Larry could have sworn someone muttered something.  
  


"Hey, Bocephus! Little help over here!"  
  


At the muffled sound of a voice, Larry tilted his head up with furrowed eyebrows. He panned around the room, trying to identify the source of the sound. As little knocks echoed from the small crate by Dexter, he approached the rattling box before sliding the lid off.  
  


In a large sigh, two familiar miniatures clambered out of the crate. As other Romans and cowboys left the crate, Larry felt a wash over his chest as his heart pressed. Standing on the lid was Jedediah and Octavius, eyeing him from below. And then: the cowboy's eyes narrowed.  
  


"Well, lookie here." A cold tone escaped from Jedediah's lips. "If it ain't _Mr Big-in-the-Britches_ himself, come back just in time to see us off!" He snarled at the end, shaking his fist back at him.  
  


At instinct, his cheek tightened as he tried not to wince. Larry took a small breath, scratching the back of his neck. "Look, I don't even know how this happened."  
  


Well, partially. Rebecca did tell him something about the museum changing to some extent - but not in particular detail. Though, it was probably because they hadn't been talking long enough when they got back to the apartment. Nights now were spent sleeping, exhausted after a day's worth of meetings, and Rebecca was always supporting him - making sure he would get enough rest. Larry wasn't even sure if he talked with Nick during the evenings as well.  
  


But then the worried looks Rebecca had, how her eyes wanted to tell Larry about something but held it back before he could wonder.  
  


By now, Larry wanted to kick himself in the head.  
  


"Yeah. Yeah, a _real_ mystery how this happened. Maybe, the answer’s on that _magic buzzing box_ there in your hand!" The cowboy pointed his fingers at him.  
  


Averting his eyes, he wasn't sure where he could look. The Neanderthals and Huns grew unusually silent, making him feel the pit in his stomach dig deeper. Ahkmenrah stared at him, eyes trying to reassure him as he stood quietly several feet from him. Larry then turned to Teddy and Sacagawea and almost wanted to flick his eyes anywhere away from them. He didn't need sympathy or sincerity.  
  


' _It's your fault, Daley._ ' A thought crossed his mind.  
  


"You weren't here, Gigantor! That's how it happened! Ain't no mystery!"  
  


Those harsh words slashed Larry like a whip, causing great pain in his chest.  
  


A hefty sigh was heard, and Octavius sadly spoke. "The fact is, Larry, there's no one else here to speak on our behalf during business hours." On that sentence, an idea formed in his head.  
  


"What about Rowen?" Larry quickly questioned the pharaoh. "Ahk?"  
  


Ahkmenrah abjectly answered: "She's currently quite occupied at the moment."  
  


Larry raised an eyebrow.  
  


"With a bunch of kids, that's what!" Jedediah rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.  
  


Mentioning the particular word, he remembered what they were talking about. He forgot that Rowen changed her occupation as soon as the museum project began. The first year, when he still worked at the museum, comprised of Rowen getting help from the exhibits to learn about their history and making sure her lectures were accurate.  
  


He clearly remembered the museum curator spending quite a long time with their resident mummy.  
  


"She is now a professor of ancient civilisations, my friend." The pharaoh explained, still maintaining an unbiased tone. "Rowen says I will come too - for a while. Something about my sarcophagus needing a clean."  
  


' _She didn't say...well text about this_.' Larry thought, and rummage across his messages. His phone only showed him short and quick texts. And there were missed calls.  
  


Thirty missed calls...all from a day ago.  
  


Larry's finger quickly found the off switch and he quickly asked, "When did she find out?"  
  


Ahkmenrah held a curious (or verging to suspicion in Larry's opinion) expression, boring his gaze into his and through the back of his head. The pharaoh spoke, "Just a couple of days ago, she was devastated last night of what transpired. She's been trying to call you to see if you could assist her in changing the Director's mind."  
  


Larry began, "Oh...Well, Rebecca didn't even mention-"  
  


"None, none, dum-dum!"  
  


At the rumbling cry of the Easter Island head, everyone began talking at once, some crying, pleading to not go to the Smithsonian. Some were in a mixture of anger and betrayal, especially the Huns who were always riled up in some form. Though through the years the Huns did grow accustomed to Larry, and Attila and he played hockey every week.  
  


Not anymore.  
  


Larry waved his arms about and shouted until the exhibits quietened. He then reassured them, gesturing to himself. "Hey, guys! It's okay! Me and Rowen will call the board in the morning, all right? I got some pull now. I'll handle this." Larry continued. "We're gonna be okay here."  
  


The last sentence dripped with doubt. He wasn't sure if he was just saying it to them, or to reassure himself.  
  


Jedediah scoffed. "We? Did you hear that? You hear that, _Daydream Johnny_? There ain't been a 'we' ever since you put us on the 'pay no mind' list! And that's a cold place to be, boy."  
  


"Larry, what's done is done!” He stated, “Even the glory of Rome had to come to an end." Octavius looked away, a sombre gaze at an angle.  
  


Octavius simply ignored his pleads to look at him, almost scolding himself for being rude when everything that was happening was feeling all his own. Larry felt like he was being told off like a child, blamed at something he could have prevented.  
  


"Look, guys, maybe it won't be so bad," Larry suggested, only getting retorted by the capuchin on his shoulder. "Yes, you make a good point. But this is the _Smithsonian_ we're talking about here." He said back to Dexter.  
  


But Jedediah quickly cried back, "You're missing the point, Gigantor! They're shipping us out!"  
  


"Larry, I know you're trying to make us feel better. I can see that you're genuinely slightly bothered, but it's never going to be the same. All of us here, together, in this place." Octavius, his eyes still glancing away from him, spoke.  
  


The cowboy shook his head. "It ain't never gonna be home, boy."  
  


"Jedediah, please!"  
  


He took a step around and found Teddy standing in the same place - a tired look crossing over him.  
  


As his lips upturned to a sad smile, the former president said. "Lawrence, these are emotional times for all of us. But it is our last night as a family, and I don't want to see it squandered in self-pity. So, who will join me for one final stroll through these hallowed halls?"  
  


There were several nods and murmurs of agreement. And after a few moments, Larry idly stood by the reception desk, fiddling with the hem of his blazer and fingers as the exhibits wandered out into the museum. It felt like watching a hearse instead of stroll in Larry's eyes and made the heart in his chest heavier than the beginning of the night.  
  


The night continued, and Larry tried his best to cheer the exhibits to some extent. But he was met by sad eyes or the betrayal - some more open to their emotions than others. He realised he couldn't approach Jedediah or Octavius as easily as Sacagawea and Attila. The roman almost seemed to lose his own mind from the body whereas Jedediah glared at him whenever he was around.  
  


When morning broke, Larry waited patiently in the main entrance once more. The exhibits returning to their places...and their crates. His fingers ached when Dexter slammed his lid shut, gritting his teeth at the sound of the cheeky capuchin. Ahkmenrah shook his hand, wishing him good health. The pharaoh knew that he would return but knowing well that his friends would not. Sacagawea thanked him once more, the same motion of blowing him a kiss from the last time he left them.  
  


As Sacagawea got back into her crate, he saw Teddy drew back tears. He quietly said to Larry, "It's almost dawn, Lawrence."  
  


"Yeah..." Larry trailed, but then raised his eyebrow. "So, where's your crate, Teddy?"  
  


There was an almost painful expression in his face, as Teddy gave him sad smile. He revealed, "I won't be making this journey, Lawrence." Teddy sadly spoke, "It seems myself, Rexy, and a few of the signature exhibits will be staying here for now."  
  


Larry's heart stopped.  
  


He breathed, "Without the tablet?"  
  


"In truth, Lawrence, Ahkmenrah's tablet will be remaining here," Teddy replied.  
  


"What?"  
  


Teddy simply answered, "They're going without the tablet, my friend. Since he will only be gone for a few weeks, both he and Rowena have decided that it will be safer in the museum." His eyes then darted to Sacagawea's crate. "I'm afraid this night is their last."  
  


"You didn't tell them." Larry murmured; eyes widened. "Rowena didn't tell them either, I guess." He said as he looked over to the crates.  
  


Larry then felt a hand press over his shoulder.  
  


Glancing back at him, Teddy quietly said, "Sometimes it's nobler to tell a small lie than deliver a painful truth."  
  


There was a fragment when Teddy looked at him, a mixture of sadness surrounding all of his cheeriness. Even in the saddest times, Larry never saw the former president downhearted.  
  


"Are you gonna be okay?" He asked him with a worried glance.  
  


Teddy slowly crept up a smile and took a deep breath. "I shall do my best. And who knows? Sometimes the greatest change brings about even greater opportunity." He gestured at him. "Look at you, Lawrence. You left this place and created quite a life for yourself."  
  


Larry muttered, "Yeah, I guess so."  
  


Teddy clapped the back of his shoulder, motioning him to walk beside him. "I should hope you'd do more than guess, my friend. You're a captain of industry; the world at your fingertips! It seems to me you have everything you wanted." He formed a grin as he spoke.  
  


"Yeah, no, I know," Larry said, regretting what came out.  
  


He felt the pressure of Teddy's hand lift-off, and Larry watched Teddy hop back onto Texas, who positioned himself back onto the wooden podium.  
  


"If I may, lad, allow me to offer you one piece of advice." Teddy gazed down at him. "The key to happiness, to true happiness, is..."  
  


His phone went off, and Larry quickly apologised to Teddy before opening the screen.  
  


"Hang on one sec. I just gotta...No, okay, I'm turning this off. I'm sorry." Larry murmured and looked back up.  
  


"The key to happiness?"  
  


As a ray of light shone across the room, hitting the flag behind him: Teddy stood still - frozen once more. Larry took a deep breath and mentally kicked himself. With one last goodbye to Teddy, he gulped down the bile that rose from his throat and exited the museum.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"So, they're gone? There's nothing you can do?"  
  


"I wish there was, man. I'm telling you, I tried everything. I talked to McPhee, I called the board, called Rowen, but they shipped them out this morning."  
  


He got back home quickly in the evening, spending the whole day dozing from his thoughts and the reality around him. The reason would mostly be comprised of the lack of sleep he wasn't used since his time at the museum, and his thoughts wondering about what happened last night.  
  


The exhibits left this morning, a red truck rolling out of the museum gates - taking away his friends forever.  
  


Larry mentally winced once more at the word 'friends'. He knew he didn't deserve that after not knowing what was happening. There were so many moments when he could have intervened, despite not associating with the museum. But all his tricks and leverage: it seemed the board was adamant on changing.  
  


"This is a lot of food, Dad. I thought Rebecca was at the museum tonight?" Nick's confused voice came from the dining room, and he poked his head out of the kitchen, pulling out several plates and glasses from the cupboards.  
  


He was working tonight again but in different circumstances. Larry mentioned Ed to his son, explaining to him that the two were going to discuss some things about company plans. Nick simply nodded and gave him an odd look - to which he raised an eyebrow. His son then shrugged his shoulders, saying that he never really worked at night since the museum.  
  


Larry let out a breath. He knew when Nick would start guilt-tripping him and learned very slowly as a parent how to divert these conversations. Though with the mention of the museum again, and how upset Nick really was: he couldn't do anything. Nick had grown to love the museum from the past three years, even if he wasn't there anymore.  
  


Before he could speak and try and gain some smile off his smile, Larry was cut off by the sound of the phone. His head darted to where it sat, and he strode towards it and picked up.  
  


Larry spoke, "Hello-"  
  


Suddenly, he was interrupted by the muffled shouts and screams and flew his head back in shock.  
  


"Gigantor! It's me, Jedediah! Hold! Hold!"  
  


His chest began to beat faster, taken back at the sound of the cowboy's voice. ' _How the fu-_ '  
  


"Jed?" Larry furrowed his eyebrows.  
  


"Never surrender!"  
  


He pulled the phone closer to his ear, attempting to listen to the various layers of voices. "Jed, what are you...How did you dial the phone?"  
  


There was a large bang. And the rattling of metal. What on earth was going on?  
  


"Long story! That brazen little monkey stole the tablet, and now we're in a world of hurt, boy!" Jedediah exclaimed.  
  


"What's going on?-"  
  


"Kahmunrah!"  
  


He repeated, "Kahmunrah?"  
  


"Ahkmenrah's big brother!" The cowboy heaved out, "He's here! And trust me, not a friendly! Never! I repeat, not a friendly!-"  
  


"Jed?" He wanted to make sure if he was still there, getting interrupted by the unknown.  
  


Jedediah seemed to be panting, saying: "I don't know how much longer-… we can fight them off! No!"  
  


He spoke, his heart beating faster. "You okay, Jed?"  
  


"Let go of me! Help!" There was a large banging racket, roaring from their end of the call.  
  


His hand tightened around the phone, as Larry raised his voice. "Hey, hey! Don't worry Jed, hang on-"

  
A long monotonous ring cut their screams.  
  


Larry stared long at the phone, not realising his hands had gone numb.  
  


"What was that about?" He quickly turned, to find Nick looking up from the dining table - worry lining his lips. "What's going on, Dad? I heard Jed, but I thought-"  
  


He placed the phone back onto the holder, feeling his face harden in concern. Larry simply answered, "I don't know." He paused. "But I'm going to find out. And maybe call Rowen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in parts 1 and 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	19. Washington D.C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena and Larry head to Washington D.C and plan to get the tablet from the Federal Archives. 
> 
> However, in all their cases with the magical tablet and museum: not everything goes to plan as they hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome back. I don't really have anything to say other than two things.
> 
> One is that there's going to be some changes in characters and their locations during the second movie. And second: there's going to be a bit more swearing and violent themes. I will acknowledge these as the next chapters are posted on.
> 
> For now, enjoy this chapter! Have a good day and evening. :)
> 
> [P.S Thank you again for Kudos. :)]

** Rowena XVIII  
  
**

_**2009 - Washington D.C  
  
** _

Someone once taught her how to not panic in stressful and surprising moments. She couldn't really remember who it was. Maybe it was a teacher or a nomad. Though, it took Rowena a hundred-and-fifty years to perfect her composure. Or might be because of the circumstances she thrusted herself onto.  
  


Wars, battles, action. Anything unexpected coming at her had been a lesson to compose herself.  
  


To think and _then_ to act on it.  
  


And time was an important asset despite only having a small fraction of a second before a bullet or a fist could hit her instantly. Though, Rowena noticed how the simple things of planning and being calm could change the course of the future.  
  


Ironically: that didn't seem to help when she encountered Cecil and the other two nightguards three years ago.  
  


However, getting a call in the middle of the night from Larry Daley could also count as one of the many times she’s had a small panic attack.  
  


He called her in the afternoon, already hearing the man apologise dozens of times before she could take her time apologising as well. She quickly told herself to forget the mess they were already in for not acting soon. Because there were more things important than wasting her time pointing fingers at people.  
  


As the mention of Jedediah calling, out of all things: Rowena knew that something was not right.  
  


The tablet wasn't supposed to go with Ahkmenrah. It was supposed to be left in a protective glass case in the Egyptian exhibit (alongside Ahkmenrah's royal clothing for display for the week he was gone). If the tablet went to another museum, she assumed that the exhibits kept there would come to life as.  
  


A whole other museum. More specifically: The Smithsonian.  
  


Rowena immediately squashed the growing notion as soon as it formed. She couldn't let Larry panic any more than he already was and reassured him that she would arrange something with the Smithsonian.  
  


On the other hand, there was another issue. A certain Egyptian royal family issue.  
  


_"Kahmunrah? Do we have anything about him?" Rowena asked Hector.  
  
_

_He stopped filing papers and paused to think. "Hmm...not a lot." Hector then eyed her and asked: "Didn't he murder our resident mummy?"  
  
_

_Her hand quickly jerked the pen. She paused and Rowena turned to look at her colleague. "What?" She called out.  
  
_

_"It's a proper tale. Kinslaying and all that." He shrugged his shoulders.  
  
_

_"That's-“  
  
_

_"It's why your sister didn't find his body with his family. He was buried somewhere else. God knows where. But he led a dictatorship..." Hector rambled on, snorting at the end. "They were happy when he died. And then the great Khufu took over and his reign lasted for years."  
  
_

"Kahmunrah," Rowena muttered under breath, as she flicked through her journal. The name even seemed unsure in her lips.  
  


They arrived in D.C during the evening, tired from the usual stress of flying and planning on the plane. Her reunion with the night guard (former night guard, she reminded) was a bowl of mixed feelings. The last time Rowena saw him was two months ago when Larry, Nick and Rebecca invited her round to theirs for dinner. But instead of reminiscing stories of the museum, all they talked about was their present doings - as if the time of the museum didn't even happen.  
  


She regretted what happened to the exhibits, but Rowena knew she couldn't dwell on it. The best thing was to sort out getting the Tablet out, and perhaps from Ahkmenrah's brother's hands.  
  


Kahmunrah, the older brother - the one that supposedly killed her friend. Rowena wanted to shake her head and remove all the thoughts. But she couldn't.  
  


She was confused.  
  


The story of Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah didn't make sense at all.  
  


Or perhaps Ahkmenrah was truly hiding something.  
  


' _Don't think that it might all just be speculation. You are a historian; you need to take this professionally and orderly._ ' she chided herself during the flight. ' _He never told you the truth, no matter how much you tried to loosen his lips. He only told you to be careful of what the stories, that remained, told the world._ _’  
  
_

_ Rowena could only wonder what else was hidden, though with another observation she encountered.  
  
_

_‘His wine tolerance was rather high..._ '  
  


She regretted even making that damn paper several decades ago; the one about the Old Kingdom pharaohs. Only a few copies were left in the world, only lingering in the largest libraries. Even then, books – despite being finite – will eventually be twisted in infinite ways.  
  


Rowena thanked Larry for reeling her back to reality during the journey, talking through their plans on how they would tackle the Tablet. Once they arrived in Washington, Rowena and Larry took a night's rest in their hotel rooms despite them secretly eager to just go to the Smithsonian and grab the Tablet.  
  


But she removed that idea, knowing how reckless that would be without some form of liability.  
  


Instead, she laid awake in her bed for the entire night - too restless to sleep. The hotel was nice and fitted her usual taste of luxury travel. It was something Rowena grew accustomed considering she was technically still part of royalty. Others had always turned their noses from her when she spoke of riches and posh things, looking down at her for a being snooty. Even her time in the desert, Rowena loved things being nice and pristine.  
  


Though with her more 'refined' taste: this never stopped her from giving to others. Rowena would give whatever is needed, only expecting some simple return - some form of thanks. Such as helping Larry pick himself up into now a millionaire after working as a nightguard.  
  


' _But what if you never helped him...you would never have gone here to sort this mess._ ' Something in the back of her mind told her.   
  


Rowena groaned and sat up from her bed and gravitated towards the large mahogany desk. Getting her journal out once more, she continued writing her thoughts down.  
  


It would be another long night...which was never a good prelude when heading into the unknown.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She met Larry outside his room, wearing a white buttoned blouse, skinny jeans and sneakers. The sneakers were vital when she reminded herself to wear, knowing how the first night at the museum led her wearing heels and leaving the night with blisters. She could only thank Mrs Melvin, the housekeeper being a _goddess-send_ for packing the right things for her after balancing the issue and her work.  
  


When he opened the door for her, Larry looked refreshed (to an extent) and the two began their early morning finding breakfast. She gave a tired smile and the two of them headed downstairs.  
  


Washington D.C was not like New York City.  
  


The streets were not tightly packed with towering skyscrapers and bold lights flashing advertisement in every direction. There were still buildings, but with pockets of lush greenery and trees. Wide roads and buildings that were more on the shorter side. She adored the inspiration of ancient Roman architecture and awed at the lining of the Washington Monument obelisk in the distance. And right behind the long lakes and fountains was _The White House_.  
  


"You never been?" Larry asked her when they sat eating their bagels outside.  
  


Perched on the benches overlooking the fountains and the obelisk, she told him that she never stepped foot onto America until she came here three years ago. There were many reasons as to why she never thought of visiting the Northern continent but couldn’t feel the urge to reveal anything else. When Rowena described some of the more obvious reasons, Larry nodded and sipped his coffee.  
  


Her phone rang half-way through their rushed breakfast, and she excused herself and picked it up.  
  


"Hello?"  
  


"Finally! I have been trying to call you last night! What have you been doing?"  
  


Hearing her granddaughter's voice, Rowena chuckled. "Travelling, darling. How are you?"  
  


"Tired," Hettie replied following a strong yawn. It would seem it was evening in Egypt, where she was currently residing.  
  


"Good day then?" She asked her, sipping her coffee from her other hand.  
  


"I guess. Dug up some artefacts, some vases and whatnot. Though perhaps it's because you chose a rather intermediate group." Hettie described more of her day, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.  
  


Rowena refrained rolling her eyes and chided. "Hettie, I gave you the task of assisting them. They are to fulfil their work so they can earn the credits for their module.” She pointed, “I also have doctorates there, so I expect you to be polite."  
  


"I know grandmamma, but they're _so_ slow!" Her granddaughter groaned. "And noisy!”  
  


Rowena bit her lip and smiled secretly.  
  


“I swear they do not understand how fundamental this job is. All they do it talk and chatter about god knows what-"  
  


She coughed away a laugh and said, "Darling. It's only a month left. Then you can be glad that the site is quiet again."  
  


"Now I know what it's like to be you.” She could hear Hettie grumble. “And they're only several years younger than me for Christ’s sake!”  
  


Before she could explain any further, Rowena's attention was diverted when she spotted Larry approaching her, pointing at his watch wrapped on his wrist.  
  


She apologised, "I've got to go, darling. I'll send you more information on the dig site."  
  


"Oh! Antonio called again, he's been meaning to talk to you." Hettie quickly reminded her.  
  


Rowena paused from drinking. She knew what she meant by it, and it didn't mean anything well. "I know, will mention it." She sighed.  
  


"Okay. I love you, grandmamma."  
  


Her lips quirked and she smiled. Hettie was too much like her father. "I love you too, Hettie." Once she placed her phone back into her pocket, she finished her coffee and threw it in the bin.  
  


Larry and she then began their walk up to one of the main buildings of the Smithsonian, going over their plan before they would split up. Whilst she would get their passes into the Federal Archives and a meeting with one of the curators, Larry would explore the Smithsonian and analyse the buildings.  
  


What they did not want is an unexpected variable to change their plan that evening.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Dr Bates, it's an honour to meet you."  
  


Rowena put on a polite smile, shaking the woman's hand in front of her own. "Likewise, Dr Atkins. I am glad that the work will be in good hands." She pulled her hand back to her side, keeping her head looking at the taller woman.   
  


Being one of the senior curators of the Smithsonian, Rowena knew the woman had more leverage for their situation. After Larry called her, she decided to text Richard of the 'situation', cutting out the 'magical' part of the delivery. Once her pleads seeped through Richard's secretive soft side, Richard gave her permission to call the Smithsonian on behalf of him. That call was another hurdle to cross, and to her surprise, she was met by an easy pass.   
  


She knew Dr Salma Atkins through words and letters. The woman was not as older as Rowena was (appearance-wise) and surprised her by her respectable response. She held a beauty that reminded of her time in the Arabian countries, with unblemished skin and sleek hair tied in a bun.   
  


At that thought, Rowena unconsciously ran her finger through her long curly locks. She didn't have time to tie her hair this morning.  
  


"Thank you." Dr Atkins returned a smile. "And I hope the work we do is up to high standards. Please follow me." She gestured for Rowena to follow her and she obliged.  
  


From the memory of the map Nick and Rebecca sent them through text, Rowena was still confused by the number of levels and size of the Federal Archives. It was not just a museum made of multiple buildings, it felt like a whole labyrinth.  
  


' _Let's just hope there isn't a Minotaur waiting for us._ ' Rowena joked to herself. Dr Atkins discussed with her the whole history of the Smithsonian, adding titbits of what artefacts they held as well as some events.  
  


They then entered a more secluded corridor, before descending in a lift to the lower levels. Once the doors opened, she found herself looking among a warehouse of over-piling shelves of boxes, crates and shipment containers.   
  


Rowena gulped. This was going to be harder than she anticipated.  
  


She continued to ask Dr Atkins about the Federal Archives, almost acting like a tourist. She knew it was best to keep her mind away from the worry, but Rowena felt she was asking too much. Was the curator getting suspicious? Five minutes walking through a long and deep aisle, they managed to enter a larger open area, with several men and women moving about. A large metal door open and the back of the building showing.  
  


The shipping container was not at the loading deck, but her eyes immediately noticed the familiar sarcophagus in one side of the shelves, encased in its glass case and crate. Dr Atkins guided her towards it, and Rowena's heart quickened. She would only hope he didn't do anything reckless. ' _You put too much trust on him, Clarke_.' She thought. ' _The moment he wakes up, he's surely gone to find his tablet._ '  
  


Dr Atkins explained, "Unfortunately, the delivery from the American Museum of Natural History was a hasty one. Therefore, the mummy will stay here before we have a place in our conservation department." She placed a hand over the crate lid. "We will move it once we have the suitable machinery as well."  
  


Rowena simply said. "I see." She then flashed an inquisitive look to her. She asked, "Dr Atkins, you specialise in the Old kingdom as well."  
  


"I do." She watched the curator move her hand away; there was a flash of recognition and Dr Atkins raised her eyebrows.  
  


She then discussed further: "I'd like to ask you about Kahmunrah, Ahkmenrah's brother.”  
  


There was a flicker of recognition in Dr Atkin’s eyes.  
  


“My grandmother wrote a paper of their reign. But of course, there were limited resources. I'm hoping the Smithsonian had more on the matter." Rowena could tell that the woman contemplated and thought it carefully.  
  


With pursed lips, Dr Atkins thought carefully before explaining. "Well source-wise: we only have several recordings on tape from Samuel Fredrick's expedition as well as the copy of Joanna Bate's work." She paused, a different tone coming from her mouth - somehow slightly ominous to Rowena. "However, since there is the belief of Kahmunrah's gate to the afterlife - it may appear that he delved into the magical side of ancient Egypt. He of course came after his brother." At the end of her explanation, her tone changed.  
  


"Hmm." Rowena hummed. The information she just listened to was adding more to the notion that Ahkmenrah was murdered.  
  


' _Maybe that was why he never spoke of it. But he's the youngest. This means Ahk..._ '  
  


Rowena almost shuddered at the thought until Dr Atkins snapped her from her thoughts.  
  


"Perhaps we might have more insight? There are some temporary Egyptologists here, they may have some work if you have the time." Dr Atkins suggested her some several names as they walked back to the lift.  
  


Rowena pondered. Maybe after this evening, she might be able to discuss with them more. It would make her long-waited discussion with her friend much better. "Thank you, but my colleague and I are here only for a few days. Dr McPhee only asked of me to make sure his delivery was safe." In the end, she kindly declined the offer, only getting a simple nod.  
  


"Of course, here are the passes. Unfortunately, they do not work for the Federal Archives - only the buildings. But someone should be here if you need help." Dr Atkins smiled, handing her two passes attached to lanyards.   
  


Rowena held hers around her neck as she clutched the other. An annoying feeling edged her to tighten her grin. As much as how kind the curator was, Rowena noticed the change of demeanour Dr Atkins wore. She saw the suspicion, and she made sure to look at her in the eye for change.  
  


As the two returned upstairs, she could not help but remember what she saw back in the loading dock. The container box with the other exhibits was on another level - according to the curator - and perhaps with Kahmunrah as well. Only a shiver down her spine indicated the panic rising in Rowena.   
  


No one noticed the small difference of the sarcophagus when she saw a small crack on the lid - and a flap of linen hanging out.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XIII  
  
**

_**2009 - Washington D.C  
  
** _

He had to admit, what he just did a few minutes ago – was pretty awesome.  
  


The Smithsonian night guard decided to give Larry his patience a run, and in the end, impressed him with his skill of the torch. In his hindsight, he could have ended it without dropping all the batteries out for him to pick up. But considering how Brunden (still a peculiar version of the name) treated Larry as he was looking at the gate of Kahmunrah, it felt fair for him to do something back.  
  


He then used the stolen key card on one of the staff doors, subtlety sneaking down the corridors before he heard several voices. Larry zoomed in to one of the rooms, realising it was a changing room.  
  


An idea struck him, and he changed his suit for the security uniform. Once he exited, Nick had called - hearing the worried voice of Rebecca. He assured them that he was fine and was currently finding Rowen. He told them he would call once they got the tablet and put the phone back into his pocket.   
  


"Larry!"   
  


He jumped from his spot and made an odd sound from his mouth.   
  


When he spun around, he found his friend eye him with a smirk.   
  


He panted, "Geeze...Louise. Will you _stop_ scaring me!” He sourly added, “I'm afraid to know how you even learnt how to be so quiet."  
  


"I stayed for a few months in rural Japan." Rowen grinned as she glanced at him.  
  


He then remembered the uniform and gestured himself making her raise her eyebrows – impressed. He kept the key card she gave him after her meeting, tucking it in his breast pocket.  
  


She said as they walked swiftly down. "They taught me a lot about how to control my body."  
  


Larry then looked to Rowen from the side and pointed out. "Well for a two-hundred and thirty-three-year-old, you're looking pretty good."  
  


She retorted, "Don't remind a woman of her age." He pouted after Rowen swatted his arm.   
  


"Sorry," Larry answered but then quickly changed the subject. "So, did you find any more information?" He inquired. As the two almost got to the end of the corridor, he heard several voices coming round the corner. He quickly eyed Rowen, who darted her eyes around before landing her hand over a door.  
  


He followed suit, shutting the door behind him. It was a largely closed shaft, with a metal staircase coming from below. Larry then found Rowen waving her hand at him and he rushed to catch up down the steps.  
  


"Ahk's crate is still on the loading deck, but they moved the container in the second level. Though I'm not sure how we'll get in-" Rowen was interrupted, and both of them paused.   
  


The sound of a door slamming open and layered voices came from above them, and they ran down the steps. Once they found the right floor, Rowen pried the door open and the two swiftly got out, finding themselves in a dimly lit room. When Larry notices where they finally were, a daunting feeling fell into his stomach.  
  


It was a large warehouse, filled with shelves and shelves of crates and containers. Objects covered in sheets and glass casings. The only source of light was the lamp inside the security office and the windows on the top side. The sunlight still present. Larry sighed to himself, before striding toward the large set of metal gates.  
  


Rowen tugged his sleeve, and he turned to her. Nudging her chin in front of them, his eyes needed to adjust from the darkness. There was still a shadow looming inside the office, carelessly flicking through a magazine. And right in the top corner of the outcropped wall was a camera.  
  


In quick motions, he took the keycard and hovered it closely to the camera, pressing the red button by the gate. A small buzz filled the silence.  
  


"Hey...Brunden! Come on in dude!"  
  


There was a pause before the sound of a click occurred. Larry waved her to him, and she opened the gate with ease.  
  


As the gate closed, Larry returned the key card into the inner pockets of his jacket. One thing was sure: the Smithsonian uniform was much more comfortable. A little bit more navy than the American Museum of Natural History had but it did not matter much too much. They began their search by trekking the main aisle.  
  


Rowen murmured beside him, looking at him curiously. "Though pray tell why you shoved a card in front of a security camera?"  
  


Larry smirked and held the key card up in front of her. He replied, "I got it off one of the security guards."  
  


Bemused, Rowen placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. Larry suppressed a chuckle and told her they needed to find the tablet soon. The daylight coming through the windows on the top of the walls began to lessen, and soon Larry felt a pit drop. Sundown was happening right now.   
  


She tutted, "Larry Daley, what would your mother say?"  
  


"Probably tell me off whilst Dad would laugh it off and tell me that it's cool." He cheekily replied, biting the inside of his mouth from laughing out loud.   
  


Rowen hummed. "Sounds like Mildred."  
  


"Aunt Carol and he used to tell me stories of when they grew up in Egypt." He chatted on with a smile forming on his lips. "And how their favourite _Aunt Emilia_ liked to send them sweets and toys and join their mischief."  
  


He caught Rowen grin despite how dark the room was. "Robert hated it when I came round; your father always showed me all of his drawings and creations." Her eyes glanced to her right. "Reminds me of a certain someone."  
  


Larry's smirk turned to a feeling of pride, cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah okay, I admit…I maybe got it from Dad.” He paused. “Was Grandpa like that?" He asked her back.  
  


"With his inventions, of course." Rowena beamed, almost refraining herself to tell a ten-minute story to him. "He devised so many ways to excavate back in Egypt, that most of the modern archaeology is based around his work."  
  


"Wow...never knew that." He did not realise that he stopped walking, staring at her at awe. No one ever spoke to him about his family. Most of their memories were passed on by word or the limited pictures at home. Since his grandparents passed away when he was little, there was never a tight connection with them. To hear Rowen speak highly of them gave a pang of nostalgia.  
  


But more questions came with it.   
  


"And now his grandson is doing the same." She softly stated making him give a sense of warmth in his chest.  
  


Larry knew Rowen had a child, though she spoke of her rarely during their time at the museum. He knew not to pry, noticing how the curator almost lost herself in memory when she was mentioned. There was always sadness on her expressions, and guilt would rise in Larry's throat after their conversations. He wondered if her daughter was still alive since Ahkmenrah always loved talking about the famous 'Peggy Bates' to Sacagawea and him.  
  


He shook his head from his thoughts and continued walking down the dark aisle of crates. They had another family issue to deal with. Since the call from Jedediah from a couple of nights ago, it worried Larry for the whole journey and wondered what happened to them.   
  


The sound of cries and shouting still echoing in his ears.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"I noticed this morning that Ahk wasn't in his sarcophagus." Rowen quietly said, turning on her flashlight on her phone. "How they didn't notice is rather concerning." She was glancing to her side whilst he looked on his.  
  


He held his torch further out from his body, spotting a wax statue of a man. A sign saying the word 'Howard Carter' engraved. Larry moved on and spotted a large container in the middle of an open area. He answered Rowen, "Oh. That means he's here somewhere."  
  


Muttering with annoyance, Rowen huffed. "Yes. And completely exposed. Bacteria could rot his corpse."  
  


A snort came out of him, and he rushed to hide it with a cough.  
  


He could feel the unimpressed gaze Rowen gave him, making it much harder for him to refrain the mischievous grin. Larry hovered his hand over the large suspicious crate, maybe their friends were inside. He began unlocking the latches. Rowen grew quiet before mumbling to herself about the younger generation being unconventional.   
  


' _Or maybe it's because you just care more of Ahk than you believe to be, Ro_.' Larry said to himself. ' _Honestly, I don't understand how you two can be in the same room without all the sparks flying, the tension-'  
  
_

"Argh!"   
  


He yelped and staggered back as the shadow burst out of the box.  
  


Out came was a large and rubber appendage - a tentacle - with a dark and protruding rubber material over it. He took several breaths, before picking up his torch from the floor. He then turned to Rowen and saw her standing a few feet away, a defensive pose out.  
  


"Fucking hell...Daley, you scared the shit out of me!" She hissed at him, her face contorting to a glare.  
  


Astonished by what she just said, Larry raised his eyebrows. "Wow, never heard you swear in my life." If they didn't have to be so quiet, he would be laughing the entire night. The immortal woman hardly spoke anything so expletive out open, always so courteous and polite even in the most irritating moments.  
  


Somehow all Larry needed was a giant rubber octopus.  
  


They pushed the tentacle of the creature back into the crate. Rowen lifted her chin and folded her arms once they closed the latches, "Oh you just haven't heard me on a bad day. Perhaps, this is going to be one of them."  
  


Larry simply made an innocent look, before being dragged back to searching for their friends. The shipping container was red, which wasn't entirely useful. In his mind, he knew that his friends didn't exactly submit to Kahmunrah without a fight, which meant they were either scattered or together. He only hoped that they were safe.  
  


A few seconds into the archive, he and Rowen entered a large open plan and Larry's heart paused. The red ship container was there, the door slightly opened. He searched for the main light switch, trailing his eyes on the cables before finding a box attached on a column. Flicking the switch, there was a quick sound of lights opening until he squinted his eyes.  
  


What he missed made Larry's heart grow cold.  
  


Surrounding the shipping container was several wax statues of men. No: soldiers.  
  


Held and pointed at the container were spears...and right in the middle of it was a man with a crown similar to his mummy friend. He heard a soft hitch of Rowen's voice, and Larry could not agree more.  
  


Larry breathed. "Woah...okay this is bad." He wandered over, mentally taking a deep breath as he followed her into the circle of soldiers. They all head a scowl, but not at prominent as the statue wearing the golden crown and turquoise tunic. It made him feel a cold wind blow down his spine, looking at the sinister snarl - too life-like for him.  
  


"Larry...look." Rowen cut him from his thoughts.  
  


She glanced over her shoulder and gestured to him to see it. They couldn't pull the door open due to two of the statues leaning against the doors, spear barricading the locks. Rowen pulled away, a sour look forming her face before she wandered her eyes away. Larry then took a peek inside and saw what she reacted to.  
  


Inside the container were the exhibits, somehow out of their crates (now broken and made into makeshift weapons. He shone his torch around and his eyes lit up to find Sacagawea, her bow drawn and fierce expression on her face. Next to her was Attila, axe already high up for a swing as several miniatures crawled over his sleeves. In the back were the Neanderthals, clubs and fists up in the air.   
  


And right in the middle was Dexter - the tablet in his clutches.  
  


Larry gritted his teeth and pointed at the capuchin. "That little shit! When I get my hands on that monkey-" There was a soft cough, and he looked back to where Rowen gave him a stern look. He curled his lips in distaste. Larry didn't understand how the mammal could have stolen the tablet, Rowen and Ahkmenrah installed a full glass casing and everything since the robbery.   
  


"Ahk! Gods. I hope they don't complain about his dust."  
  


He stopped abruptly to eye the curator once more. Sitting several metres from the soldiers and container was a weird pile in the shape of a disfigured body. Larry furrowed his eyebrows but then notices the bandages and dust. So that's where Ahkmenrah was. ' _Thank god they haven't hoovered the place_.' He thought.  
  


However, that wasn't where Rowen was. His eyes then turned back to the circle of Egyptians and found the petite woman standing right in front of the older man. He spoke, "Rowen. Now is not the time...Rowen?"  
  


"This is him, isn't it? His brother." She softly spoke.  
  


Larry answered back with a ragged breath. "Yeah. He looks...looks nothing like him." And it was true. The man in front of Rowen held some resemblance of their friend, but perhaps it was only the royal clothing and sandals. His face did not entirely match Ahkmenrah at all in Larry's view.  
  


"He never told me about him."  
  


Larry looked over to her.  
  


She took a step back, and still analysed Kahmunrah. "His parents forbade to for him to speak of his name, and throughout this time I've been relying on books and texts. How they even got his wax figure is questionable."  
  


"Yeah well, I don't think we'd want to know more. Aha!" Meanwhile, Larry pursed his lips to think. He glanced at the soldier next to him and found his eyes lingering over the spear. He pried the spear off the soldier's palms and slipped the pointed end through the gap. The spear reached far enough, and he patted himself on the back as he found the end slip through one of the holes of the tablet.  
  


Once he took the tablet, Larry let out a sigh. He then turned to Rowen, who was watching in front of him. He then held it out to her...  
  


In that instant, he watched her eyes widen and mouth agape.  
  


"Larry...no!"  
  


The Tablet began to glow.  
  


"Oh shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	20. Family Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before returning to our cliffhanger, we visit Leslie back in New York City: where she finally goes to the museum. Her friend Kai acts a little suspicious after roaming around the place out of hours. 
> 
> As for Rowena and Larry, they land themselves into some sort of family reunion and meet the 'infamous' pharaoh Kahmunrah. They also meet the new exhibits of the Smithsonian. And Rowena meets an old face once more.

** Leslie IV  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

That evening, Leslie was forced to take a detour.  
  


Work both in the hospital and school increased after she just finished her end of year exams. There was an option for her to take a break, use the left-over summer months to have a holiday. Though, knowing that Garret was still away at work urged her to continue. Without his presence, working hours tending to patients was a way to distract her from the sense of loneliness.  
  


To pull herself back to a good mood, she arranged a little get together with her friends - particularly Hailey and Kai - tonight in the city. But the latter asked to meet with him where he worked before they could head out.  
  


She groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Kai, I swear I'm exhausted today, all I want is to go out and get some drinks.” She asked, “Why am I here?"  
  


They were wandering inside the New York Museum. She checked her phone every so often for messages, knowing Hailey would be waiting for them outside.  
  


As a child, she never liked breaking the rules; and even now, being inside the building out of public hours irked her. But Kai insisted for her to come with him, her friend telling her that it wouldn’t be safe standing outside alone. In the end, Leslie gave in after he whinged the second time. They entered the front main hall and began following him around.  
  


Kai said, "Well, I work here." He paused. "Temporarily of course, but I left some work around the exhibits."  
  


Leslie gave him a bemused look before taking a breath. "Okay, be quick." Kai grinned and he gestured for her to follow him down straight into the hallway.  
  


She lived most of her life upstate, growing up in the suburban area as a child. It didn't take long until her mother decided to take her into the _Big Apple_ and show her what New York City was about. With all the times going into stores and walking in Central Park: Leslie only entered the museum twice. The first time had been with her parents as a little kid; the second time was with Kai right now.  
  


So, no one could mock her for being intrigued by all the exhibits around her, and a little bit creeped out by the empty podiums mixed with the wax figures. Kai said that they are modernising the museum, adding holograms instead to teach the children.  
  


When she registered the thought, Leslie didn't seem to see the appeal.   
  


It felt like watching a documentary of a show instead of learning physical history. The stories of the time when her family was in Egypt gave history a sense of coming back to life, like with Howard Carter and then her grandfather - Edmund Carter. And with modern technology as of now, it didn't show the true feeling of what it was like to be in that era or place.  
  


Soon as they stopped at one of the large exhibits, Leslie realised they were in the Ancient Egyptian hall. It was obvious with the large jackal statues and the beautiful ancient text on the walls. There was also a glass casing at the end of the room. She walked towards it, and instinctively brushed her hand over the glass.  
  


Inside was not a sarcophagus - but a set of clothes.   
  


Golden and bright, adorned with a colourful beaded necklace, tunic and skirt. And placed at the top was a golden crown.   
  


' _God, I wonder how much that's worth_.' Leslie whistled inside. ' _I bet that'll pay off my whole student debt_.' Her thoughts then wondered as to where the actual mummy was, and she remembered what Rowen told her about the other day.  
  


Turning to discover where her friend went, Leslie found him staring at the wall opposite the entrance. He stood rigidly still; his face scrunched up in a ball. She awkwardly cut the silence with a blunt knife. "Uh, Kai? You alright?" She asked.  
  


That quickly cut Kai's trance, and he blinked several times before turning to his side - finding her with a concerned expression. "No, no. I'm fine." He shook his head. "Just fine."  
  


"You don't seem fine, Kai." Leslie raised her eyebrows and tried her best to think of what was possibly wrong.  
  


He only held his hand out with a wave. "No. Just a bit concerned, that's all... something's not right." His eyes never left the wall, to which Leslie continued to be perplexed at the difference. There was an oddly shaped dent, suggesting that there should be something placed inside it.  
  


She tried to remember from her first visit what the artefact was, but nothing rings a bell. "Well, shouldn't you call the museum staff?" She questioned and then added: "Why don't I call Rowen-"  
  


"No!"  
  


Kai snapped, making her jumped in her toes. He frantically glanced around him and then sighed heavily to her direction. "No... she's actually off on holiday. I don't know where exactly." He ruffled his hair, the stress already showing.  
  


Leslie didn't know what else to do and bit her lip. Rowen never spoke of going away, which was unlike her. This was not the organised and punctual woman she knew. A bit of worry grew in her, and all Leslie could do was fiddle with her phone. Maybe she should text her just in case…  
  


"Mr Winterson."  
  


"Crap."  
  


At the sound of Kai's voice, her mind returned to the present. Leslie looked from where Kai was staring at and saw a woman striding up to them from the entrance.  
  


She had a concerned gaze as she nodded to them. "Mr Winterson, closing hours was half an hour ago. You're done for today." It ended in a questionable tone, wanting them to answer back.  
  


Kai held up a set of files he picked up from the corner of the room. "I forgot to pick up some files." He gestured to the pile he had in his arms.  
  


Leslie knew her palms were sweating and tried to compose herself. But the woman (she assumed called Rebecca) eyed her solemnly and she tried to smile. Rebecca spoke, "...I see."  
  


There was an awkward pause before Leslie heard Kai walk towards the woman. He asked, "Rebecca...uh...just wondering. I... I thought Dr Bates and Dr McPhee took Ahkmenrah's body away?"  
  


When Rebecca looked at him, her face fell to a bland monotonous expression. And she nodded, "Yes, for a couple of weeks actually. The Tablet went with him as well for polishing." Brown eyes darted to Leslie and a smile that reached her eyes formed. "You must be Rowen's friend, I'm Dr Hutman. But I prefer to be called Rebecca."  
  


A hand stretched out; Leslie slowly took it with her clammy palm. She remembered then who Rebecca was. The docent always came up in several of Rowen's conversations, mostly how they discussed museum work or their love of hot drinks and books.  
  


She cracked up a smile back and introduced herself. "Leslie." After placing her hand back to her side, she whistled for Kai who had returned checking the wall. "Well, uh, we're about to head off." She tried to nudge Kai with his sleeve, but he simply nodded.  
  


"Yeah."  
  


Leslie gritted her teeth and ushered him. "Come on Kai."  
  


"Yeah. Uh...See tomorrow, Rebecca." Kai mumbled out before she could stop him from being awkward any further.  
  


Rebecca blankly looked at them, a hint of suspicion growing in her eyes. But Leslie quickly averted her stare and kept walking out of the room with her friend. Once they were down the hallway, she scrunched her eyebrows and asked him, "What was that about?"  
  


"Nothing, just Rebecca being Rebecca." Kai glimpsed on the screen of his phone. "You know how historians are, always stuffy and wanting to make sure everything's the same as before."  
  


‘ _Always a hypocrite, Kai._ ’  
  


Before she could snort out loud, she cut him off: "I can't believe you made me do that! Now I looked like I was breaking and entering!" Leslie exasperated, quietly exclaiming as they wandered out of the museum. "And what was wrong with the Tablet gone? Rebecca said it was supposed to go."  
  


She looked at him, long enough for him to stop eyeing the phone. If she waited for another few seconds, Leslie would have snatched it from his grasp. Luckily, Kai shoved his phone back into his pocket and ran his hand through his hair.  
  


"Yeah, yeah I know. Just...nevermind. I won't put it onto you." He sighed.  
  


With a curious expression, Leslie still wasn't impressed. "Okay...well come on. Hailey says she's outside." She then paused to look. "Kai?"  
  


Standing by the large dinosaur skeleton, Kai froze from his place. It could have been the lighting, though she swore she saw him grow pale as his eyes wandered down to his phone. Facing her, she spotted beads of sweat on his forehead. Leslie furrowed her brows in concern.  
  


Before she could open her mouth, Kai stiffly responded, "I think I'll have to pass." He smiled forcefully. "Sorry Les, but I just got a call. My other work... Need to go and talk to them about something urgent.”  
  


She nodded slowly.  
  


“You guys go, okay?” Kai said quickly. “I'll see you some time."  
  


Leslie simply hummed, "Yeah sure, hope it goes well." She called out. "Night."  
  


However, her friend already went through the revolving doors - rushing with his files in his hands and ignoring the look of exasperation from Hailey.  
  


When she approached the blonde woman, wearing a thin jacket and heels, Hailey turned to her and spoke, "What's that about?"  
  


Her shoulders slumped, too tired to even bother to question the unease that was growing. "I have no idea, but I surely need a drink after that."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XIX  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

It was happening all too quickly, but slow enough for her to rush to Ahkmenrah's body in haste.  
  


His corpse began to slowly take shape, until Rowena jaw dropped, watching his face come back to a healthy colour. He took a sudden deep breath. And Ahkmenrah’s eyes widened, coughing from the intake of breath.  
  


She never speculated how her friend turned back to live, and seeing his body magically build itself up from a clump of dust made her feel like she swallowed a lemon. Rowena knelt and placed her hands across his cheeks, checking if he was alright. When his brown doe-like eyes turned to hers, his lips parted.  
  


Her heart skipped in her chest, and she pushed the sense down.  
  


Rowena stood back up and pulled him with both her hands on his own. He groaned and patted his tunic, with several dust particles coming out.  
  


"Rowen...you have to leave. Now."  
  


His words shook her body, hearing the worry too vast over his face. His hands grasped the side of her arms, staring down at her with a plea.  
  


Ahkmenrah said, "I tried to fight them, but-"  
  


Giving him a look, she muttered back. "I think it's too late for that."  
  


As she turned her back from him: the soldiers surrounded them, only allowing her, Larry, Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah in the centre – forcing the three to back the door.  
  


Rowena quickly placed herself into a defensive stance, shifting her feet and knees on the floor. She made sure her dagger was still under the sleeves of the jacket and inner pockets.  
  


Standing in front of the three was what had been a wax statue of the pharaoh. Now alive and breathing.  
  


He could have been covered in gold if the material were malleable enough to turn into the fabric, as his whole tunic, arm braces and a crown was made of the same metal. A heavy scowl rested on his face, with dark brown eyes matching his hair. Kahmunrah couldn't have looked any different than what Ahkmenrah appeared to be, and quickly Rowena's doubts resumed in her head.  
  


Larry took a step back until he stood by her side. Feeling something nudge at her ribs, she slowly took the tablet from his arm into hers.  
  


Kahmunrah then stared at Ahkmenrah. He drawled, " ** _I thought I taught you a lesson,_** ** _etrl lbhtroite_** ** _?_** ”  
  


The last two words at the end of his sentence were something she could not understand. ‘ _Should have revised Ancient Egyptian before coming here._ ’  
  


The pharaoh continued to talk, waving his hand carelessly to them. ** _“But it seems you've immersed yourself with your sort._** "  
  


With narrowed eyes, Ahkmenrah with a deadly tone." ** _You're not my brother._** "  
  


The familiar language echoed into her ears. Rowena's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes immediately went to the older pharaoh.  
  


‘ _He means brother._ ’ She realised. ‘ _But what does Ahk mean he isn’t his brother?_ ’  
  


Dark brown eyes stared at another, a silent duel between occurring between them. They stood at the same height, ignoring the large crown on his head whilst the latter bore none.  
  


Ahkmenrah’s jaw tightened, and he curled his hands into fists. He held himself high in stature, but she could tell his patience faltering, and her worry grew. In a few seconds, her friend let out an audible snarl before darting his eyes away.  
  


At instinct, she felt herself stretch out towards him, placing her free hand on his lower arm. He glanced over to Rowena, and his face relaxed slightly, loosening his jaw but kept his eyes glaring back at his...well, not apparent brother.  
  


Kahmunrah smirked, and she took all her will to not snap back.  
  


The older pharaoh then cut his trance with Ahkmenrah and stopped to find him facing Larry - who now approached Kahmunrah closely. He furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "I'm sorry, who are you?"  
  


Larry waved, tucking his other hand in his pockets. "Hi, I'm Larry. Larry Daley of Daley Devices. So nice to finally meet the other brother."  
  


"He is not my brother. Or do you still tell others that, pretender?" Ahkmenrah questioned back, in a dangerously low tone.  
  


Kahmunrah looked back at her and Ahkmenrah, who rolled his eyes. A flicker of annoyance grew in her. "He wasn't well when he was alive." Walking towards her, he reached out his hand and demanded: "Now. Hand me the tablet, right now woman."  
  


To say that he stood just a few feet from her, Rowena's hatred of the pharaoh increased tenfold as she stared up at him. She could feel his breath coming from his nostrils – hot air slamming against her face. A vile and sickening taste left her mouth wanting to vomit. For some reason, even having his presence already made her gag.  
  


But Rowena kept her composure, holding the golden tablet tightly around her arm. She snapped, "I have a name...or do you just call everyone below you scum?"  
  


Kahmunrah's eyes analysed her, almost trying to understand what she was before he could answer. "Ah yes...the little whore." He hummed, "It seems even after four thousand years, little Ahkmenrah has a protector to fuck and cower behind."  
  


"Why-"  
  


"Woah, there. Ahk. He's just messing with you."  


Larry, being the saviour once more, held Ahkmenrah by the arm before he could lunge at Kahmunrah.  
  


Rowena glanced at them, seeing the true anger showing in her friend's face.  
  


Ahkmenrah snarled, "Call her that again-"  
  


He was then interrupted by Kahmunrah, who matched his tone and spoke, "Now hand me that Tablet-"  
  


They were both cut off by the metal banging of the shipping container. She stopped herself from looking back, keeping a close eye on the pharaoh's movements. Kahmunrah marched over to the door.  
  


"Don't give it to him, Gigantor!" Jedediah screamed from the inside.  
  


Haggled cries of Dexter, the Huns and the Neanderthals were muffled by the metal door, and she tightened the grasp of the tablet as she heard something slam against the material.  
  


"Silence! Silence in there, please!" Kahmunrah bellowed, "Don't make me come in there!"  
  


"No! I won't be muzzled!"  
  


The noise continued, and before it ended: Rowena fully faced Kahmunrah. He peered down at her and spoke, "Look, that tablet is more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”  
  


His eyes gazed down further – down to her neck. Rowena could have sworn there was a flicker of recognition in him as she could tell where his eyes ended up to.  
  


“Bringing things back to life is just a _parlour trick_." Kahmunrah then eyed Ahkmenrah at her side with a grin. "With it, I shall unlock the Gate to the Underworld and bring forth my army from the Land of the Dead."  
  


Ahkmenrah snapped, "Never in a lifetime-"  
  


Kahmunrah waved his hand to ignore him and held out his hand. "So, if it's not too much trouble-"  
  


He cut his sentence short and kept his hand out.  
  


She stared up to him. There was an odd feeling that edged her when she looked upon the pharaoh as if there was more under the wax figure. As if something in the back of her head kept giving her warning signs of the man in front of her - and it was not just because of the unspoken hatred from Ahkmenrah.  
  


At that moment, she could sense something on her collarbone. It was the pendant, and it seemed to grow warm as she kept her proximity to the pharaoh.  
  


When the heat began to be uncomfortable, Rowena glanced over at the corner of her right. Larry kept his eyes on her before.  
  


She took a mental inhale and spoke.  
  


"Alright then, lisp boy. Here." With a swift movement, she pressed the artefact against Kahmunrah's chest with a retort.   
  


"Rowen!"  
  


She winced internally from Ahkmenrah's protest but kept her face at his brother, who then wore a sign of approval.  
  


"Wise decision. I see the woman has some sense." Kahmunrah nodded and studied her. She felt a shiver down her spine, repulsed by the gleam of the older pharaoh's eyes.  
  


Eyes that watched their prey were not amongst Rowena's good graces.  
  


But before she could bite back, she introduced herself. "Rowen Bates." She spoke in a sickly-sweet tone, "And for your information, you seem shorter than I thought."  
  


A flash of annoyance from Kahmunrah as he began to speak. "Why-"  
  


Though before he could reach out for her, she felt an arm tug her body back.  
  


Larry said back, "Enough, Rowen.” He apologised. “I'm sorry. We'll let you go on."  
  


A strained laugh came from Kahmunrah, who spoke. " _Oh… no_. I'm making Ahkmenrah and his _whore_ watch me reign this world."  
  


She swore she heard Ahkmenrah mutter 'over my dead body' from her place but stifled a snigger.  
  


As the pharaoh turned around to walk with his guards, Larry nonchalantly said: "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I thought you wanted the Cube, but..."  
  


That stopped him from his tracks.  
  


Kahmunrah looked over his shoulder. "The _Cube_?"  
  


"The _Cube_... of... _Rubik_."  
  


Now it was difficult for Rowena to stifle from laughing, having seen the curious - almost creepy - gaze the wax pharaoh had.  
  


He slowly said, "All right, what is this... _Cube of Rubik_ , then?"  
  


Larry raised an eyebrow and waved his arms in a gesture. "The _Cube_. You know, the one that turns all who oppose you to dust? That one?”  
  


Kahmunrah and the rest of his soldiers all had faces of confusion.  
  


Waving his hand out, he dismissed them. “Whatever. I thought...It was my bad, 'cause...You know what?” He shrugged, “By the way, your brother didn't want to mess with it, either."  
  


She then butted in, "Larry-"  
  


"Yeah, he wanted to play it safe, too. Just, you sort of struck like a next-level sort of guy, so I was..." When Larry trailed off, Rowena could sense that it affected Kahmunrah immensely.  
  


Striding up to him like a snake, Kahmunrah narrowed his eyes at the former night guard and sneered, "I am not Ahkmenrah, Larry Daley. I will kill you, my brother, his whore and your friends in the blink of an eye.” He demanded, “Now take me to this Cube of Rubik."  
  


Larry complied silently, and she looked over to him with a stare that said 'don't worry I've got this' too clearly. Rowena could only nod back and gulp.  
  


Once Kahmunrah demanded Larry to walk in front of him, she glanced over to the shipping container with a worried look. Two soldiers were stationed by the door, the metal lock still held in place and spears locked through. Rowena could only think of several motives to what Larry was doing, and she only hoped it could help them stall.  
  


When she glanced over at Ahkmenrah, he could only scowl back - not knowing if the anger was aimed at her or his 'assumed' brother. But the gaze struck a nerve in her, causing her heart to go cold. Her eyes immediately went back to the front after being shoved by the butt of a spear and continue to walk.  
  


Larry led them back to where they originally walked through, keeping his facade as he approached the familiar large crate in front of them. The soldiers then surrounded them, letting Rowena stand on the side-lines whilst Ahkmenrah stood farthest from her. As Kahmunrah waited behind Larry, Larry gestured to the box.  
  


"Here it is." He muttered.  
  


"Open it."  
  


As the pharaoh gave the order, she eyed her friend. He nodded curtly and she tapped her fingers on the side of her hip for a signal. Rowena then darted her eyes to Ahkmenrah, who curiously looked at her before realising what their signals meant.  
  


In silence, she saw the latches of the metal locks come off by Larry's hands.  
  


With two clicks, the crate lid burst open.  
  


The wooden pieces flew as she shielded her body from the shards.   
  


Not only did one tentacle flew out, but the entire underwater creature came out - its appendages extending outwards.  
  


Rowena has seen octopi before, but never this large.   
  


The screams of a guard being lifted in the air paused her from gaping, elbowing the soldier it the ribs before tripping their feet with a swipe of her leg. She snatched the spear from the fallen soldier and spun it around, swooping with a yelp as a tentacle aimed at her body.  
  


She dodged it in the final second, seeing the other soldier coming towards her be picked up before being thrown in a far direction of the crates. A large screeched echoed around her, and Rowena watched both Larry and Ahkmenrah escape the grasps of the soldiers and octopus.  
  


Her friend had jabbed the spear, twirling it around his hands before swiping air below the soldier's legs. Ahkmenrah hit the butt of the spear at the soldier's head – knocking him unconscious. At that moment, her cheeks grew flush – instantly hiding it as she gaped at Larry.  
  


Kahmunrah tripped against one of the tentacles, letting go of the tablet. She then widened her eyes as it flew into the air. Though as soon as she took a step, Larry was already going for it, letting Ahkmenrah escape by taking down the last guards and running to her side.  
  


The former night guard slid under the maroon grasps of the creature - catching the tablet at ease.  
  


Once he got up, Larry waved his hand over and her legs carried her away.  
  


She heard the roaring cries from the back.  
  


"Come back here with my tablet! I still have your friends!"  
  


The kept running, closing on each other as they wound through the path.  
  


"What was that!" Ahkmenrah exclaimed as they ran down the aisle of shelves.  
  


Rowena quickly looked at him and panted out, "Octopus. Larger than usual I assure you!"  
  


"And I suppose _that_ was your plan?" He let out an annoyed tone.  
  


"I thought it was good!" Larry defended.  
  


She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "You only say that because you dodged that tentacle-like _Indiana Jones_."  
  


"Says the one who gave the tablet to that pretender!" Ahkmenrah argued.  
  


"Well, Larry seemed to know what I was implying!"  
  


"You gave it to him like it was nothing!"  
  


"Well, how was I supposed to hand it to him?" Rowena barked back.  
  


Before Ahkmenrah could open his mouth, Larry diverted their argument. "Less arguing, more running guys!"  
  


The three continued to run down the winding paths of the archives, every corner looking the same as always. Rowena sucked in her breath when she spotted several pterodactyls swooping across the room. There was still the sound of sandals and leather armour from the guards, but more and more sounds erupted the archives.  
  


They then caught themselves into a crossroad of aisles and spotted the right exit filled with running guards. Behind them, another set of guards spotted them. Larry searched for Rowena's face and she gave him a nod. He then zoomed straight down the first aisle, tablet in his hand.  
  


Ahkmenrah shouted, "Larry!"   
  
  
  
But she tugged his sleeve, gesturing for him to continue running. She said, "It's better to split up, let's go."   
  


With a curt nod, it didn't hesitate him to take lead with her. Her hand slipped into his and they delved further into the Federal Archives.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry ** **XIV  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

They split up soon as the guards spotted them, and he sped down the archives with the Tablet in his hand.  
  


His lungs breathed with a struggle, almost a year since he's done anything like this, and he could easily tell by how badly his fitness was. At least working in the museum had some perks.  
  


Though running in a treadmill was far from the feeling of running away from deadly wax soldiers wanting to kill you for a golden magical tablet. Larry dodged the aisles of crates and spears being thrown at him until he kicked his heels to a halt - stopping in front of a motorcycle.  
  


Right in front of him was a man, wearing clothing fit for the American War for Independence. With golden epaulettes and buttons, it matched his moustache as a smirk rose from his lips.  
  


"Take the wheel!"  
  


What?  
  


Larry gawked at him in disbelief.  
  


"I said, take the wheel!" The man exclaimed and Larry could not help but comply. He hopped onto the motorcycle, plopping the tablet in the passenger seat and revved the engine. Adjusting his feet into the pedal, he pressed the acceleration and the sped down the aisle.  
  


The man held a flag (' _where on Earth did he get that?_ ') and whooped. "Oh, we're in it now! I love it! I love it! Just keep her straight, I'll handle the rest. Now, charge!"  
  


Larry called aloud, "Okay, so what's the plan here?"  
  


The man laughed aloud and cried, "We're Americans! We don't plan, we do! Now hold on! See that? Act first, think later! Works every time! You're in good hands!" From the corner of his eye, he spotted him puff his chest. "General George A. Custer of the Fighting U.S. 7th Cavalry, at your service."  
  


“Uh…Name’s Larry Daley.”  
  


Larry returned the greeting by saying his name, but before he could finish explaining he heard a howl of pain followed by a crack of metal. His chest leapt in shock when he took a double-take from the passenger seat and only saw the tablet. His head immediately darted from behind, who found the General sprawled over the concrete floor, a low beam above him.  
  


General Custer waved a flag and shouted, "I'm good, I'm good!" He then cried back, "Fly, you fool!"  
  


He almost protested at the thought. Larry did not want the exhibit from getting caught, but as soon as his thoughts ran through - so did the appearance of the Egyptian soldiers. He caught General Custer's urging eyes and he pressed the acceleration pedal harder.  
  


He continued down the aisle, turning to the left. Soon as he that, Larry spotted a shadowy figure in the distance and his heart lurched, snapping the brakes with such force that the wheels squeaked from the ground.  
  


Standing in front of him was a woman in flight gear, hands on her hips and an inquisitive expression on her face.  
  


"What's the rumpus, Ace?"  
  


Larry was caught off guard by her accent, trying to pin-point what era she seemed to be. Though that was really the least of his issues right now. She was standing right in the middle of the aisle and he couldn't exactly move around her.  
  


He then waved at her, indicating at his motorcycle (well, borrowed per se). "Hey, uh...Lady, could you excuse me-"  
  


Larry was interrupted by a short intake of breath.  
  


The woman's eyes flashed wide, and she peered at him with a scornful look. "Lady? Who are you calling lady?" She tilted her chin up and spoke, "The name is Amelia Earhart, perhaps you've heard of me?"  
  


The name then recalled from his brain, remembering the war figure he saw on the way inside the Archives. Larry then took a second to gaze at her. Amelia Earhart was exactly what the pictures saw her as, and perhaps by the retorted look she gave him - acted like the same one...though perhaps slightly different.  
  


"Oh, right. You're a famous pilot or whatever."   
  


Larry spoke aloud and instantly wanted to smack himself in the head. ' _Great, you just insulted her. Well done again, Daley_.'  
  


Whilst he took his leave by continuing to walk, he heard her footsteps take in step with him.   
  


"Pilot?" Amelia gasped and answered, "I was the _first_ woman to fly the Atlantic! _First_ woman to receive the Flying Cross, _first_ woman to fly across the forty-eight states in a gyro prop."  
  


They approached an intersection, and he pressed himself against the crate and leaned out. Several stomps of feet passed them, too close to his liking. He sucked in his breath.  
  


The soldiers continued to run pass where they hid until he heard the footsteps dwindle to quieter steps. Larry exhaled and found himself turning to the figure next to him.  
  


Amelia stood fully facing him, a stern expression aimed at him. "Now if you'd wipe that perhaps-permanent look of alarm off your kisser, I was wondering if you might be so kind as to tell me exactly where I am?"  
  


Letting out a shallow sigh, Larry answered: "You're in a museum...Or, actually, under it." He then gestured at her as he explained, "And I'm in kind of a dangerous situation right now, so you might not want to be anywhere near me."  
  


He moved out from where they hid and tightened the grasp of the tablet in his hand. Larry watched the aisles in all directions as he strode out beforehand. He quickly stumbled back - her body almost inches from him.  
  


Larry said, "Wow, you're fast.”  
  


A smirk fell onto her lips. Amelia asked, "What's your name, flyboy?"  
  


"My name... is...Larry Daley."  
  


She said with a confident tone, "Well, _Larry Daley._ In case you weren't listening, I'm not one to shy away from danger."  
  


She stood by a crate, and before he reacted: a spear flew past her...almost aiming at her head. More deadly weapons were thrown at her, and to his shock - none had hit her. His jaw dropped, thinking if the pilot was either very brave or had a death wish.  
  


He shook his head from his thoughts, ' _She's a wax statue, she isn't alive_.'   
  


"How about spears?" Larry pointed out.  
  


Amelia asked back, "Are you one to shy away from spears?"  
  


He didn't answer back, looking out from the corner. The soldiers somehow ran off in another direction, but he knew the Archives was not large enough to run around for the whole night.  
  


Larry internally shouted. His thoughts were jumbled up too much. Not only there was an evil pharaoh after his friend's magical tablet and his soldiers after him; now Amelia Earhart stood in front of him, a glint in her blue eyes...a sense of mischief and playfulness in them.   
  


He couldn't help but glance at her for another minute, almost tempted to answer what she asked, though was cut off by two figures running towards them.  
  


Approaching him and Amelia, he mentally sighed in relief again as Rowen and Ahkmenrah slowed down to a halt.  
  


"Larry! Thank the gods. I thought we lost you." The pharaoh first exclaimed, panting between words.  
  


His mind then reverted to the task at hand and eyed Rowen and Ahkmenrah. He spotted Rowen give a look at Amelia – one that started a line of questions. Before he could let them ask who he had found, Larry spoke, "Now's not the time for introductions."  
  


Giving a look of agreement, Rowen glanced down in front of him. With a sudden realisation, Larry passed the tablet back into the hands of the owner, who gave an expression of relief of being with his artefact once more. She opened her mouth, ready to explain but was cut off by a voice;  
  


"Emilia?"  
  


Everybody's heads flicked to the voice.  
  


Standing in the open light was another figure. It was a man, who wore a suit, tweed jacket though with no tie. He had light brown hair, partly slick with a moustache and stubble. Blue-grey eyes were dulled by the lighting, as his mouth was parted open as he stood rigid in place.  
  


"Do I know you?" Amelia asked.  
  


The man shook his head and replied, "No, I didn't mean you." His face never left Larry left, to which he noticed was Rowen.  
  


He then he heard a whisper leave Rowen's mouth, "Howard..."  
  


Confusion grew from Larry's mind, and it seemed everybody else had the same idea. Ahkmenrah glanced back and forth from Rowen and the man, furrowing his eyebrows as well. As for him, he was about to speak until a glimpse of gold and a spear came at the corner of his eyes.  
  


He tugged his friend's jacket sleeve, and Larry rushed aloud, "Run now, Talk later Rowen!"  
  


He led the way once more, letting Ahkmenrah urge Rowen forward. Following behind them was the man and Amelia as well. As much as he disliked having the two now following them into danger, Larry knew he could not anything about it.  
  


He pressed his key card against the security pad and heard the beep. Larry pulled open the door and ushered the four out and up the staircase.  
  


"Let's ankle, skipper! Now we're gonna have some fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first (and maybe last) night at the Smithsonian. And it seems Rowena and Larry are already running about. We also got to finally meet General Custer and Amelia Earhart from the canon movies. But we also got to meet Howard Carter, Rowena's former friend and Leslie's great grandfather. Next chapter is going to be a flashback chapter, where we get to see how they met.
> 
> As for Amelia and Larry, it seems things are going to be altered as Rebecca and him are still together. We'll see what happens how Larry approaches this. But I love Amelia Earhart and how Amy Adams portrays her. She just gives a lot of optimism and light in the story and hopefully, this will work out. Kai Winterson: what is he doing and why is her so nervous? Well, that's going to be another thing to watch out for. ;)
> 
> Thank you so much again for the kudos. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story so far. Hopefully, by the time I've finished part 2, I'll have posted some uncut chapters over on the other part. Hope you have a good day/evening. :)
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before parts 3 and 4.


	21. A Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback of the first time Rowena met Howard Carter and Robert Daley, and how this trio practically can't get away from each other.
> 
> And how Rowena found two people to call family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to give you guys a bit of a break from last chapter's cliffhanger. We get to see more of Rowena's past but with new people: Howard Carter and Robert Daley. Their relationship has to be the most wholesome friendship I've written and it will kind of reflect future or current relationships Rowena has.
> 
> And hinted by the title, it's not going to be the typical fluffy chapter you hoped. But I hope you guys enjoy it. :)
> 
> WARNINGS for this chapter: mentions of blood and violence.
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Added an extra bit at the end.

** Rowena XX  
  
**

**_1903 - Cambridge  
  
_ **

She shouldn’t have done it.  
  


There was a rule which Rowena first made a few decades back – and that was to never stand out for the extremist things. And what she did had indeed been the opposite.  
  


‘ _Stupid…stupid. What were you thinking?_ ’ She asked herself as she sped walked. ‘ _Out of all the things you do, you had to open your wide mouth!_ ’  
  


Her back hit against the stony surface, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her head tilted up to the ceiling of wooden beams; her eyelids grew heavy as her body relaxed from the tension. Her arms still holding the book whilst her satchel sat spread on the floor. When the noise of bustling students dimmed, she let out a sigh in relief and stood against the alcove for a few minutes.  
  


Rowena soaked the little bit of peace she yearned ever since the day began. She thought, ‘ _At least I’m alone for a bit…_ ’  
  


"That was rather bold of you.”  
  


Her eyes snapped wide open, and she didn't need to tilt her head back down to find blue eyes staring down at her.  
  


“No one has _ever_ doubted Professor Hansen since he stepped foot in this place."  
  


Rowena shifted back to a standing position, cursing internally whilst picking her satchel back up. When she turned back up, his smirk never left his face.  
  


Her arms tightened against her book and she said stiffly, "Well I'm not someone who would just sit there and allow a lie to be told."  
  


"Then what is it?" He asked.  
  


Rowena blankly replied, "What is what?"  
  


"The truth."  
  


The man could have found her at a better time to pester her, though it seems this was not her day.   
  


Rowena exhaled: "Teeth are a good example to extrapolate the findings, considering its chemical composite. It also allows you to know their diet and their age."  
  


"Now you speak like one of those natural scientists."  
  


"I've...dabbled in various subjects." She shrugged. No one needed to know what she did for the past several decades. Years of experiments, social climbing, and the creation of her name. Though the man in front of her would not comprehend all the work she's been doing outside school.  
  


He rolled his eyes and softly chuckled at the end. "Or so the only woman in the history course would."  
  


"What do you wish of me, Mr Daley?" Rowena impatiently said.  
  


Robert Daley was one of the twenty students enrolling for history and could be the noisiest student she ever encountered.   
  


The man was much like the rest of the people around her: rich, popular, and nosy. And despite his obvious intellect, Rowena saw him as the rest - unappreciative to the previous art of her subject. She looked at Daley as much as the others: young and still naïve of the work; and it only frustrated her as to why he decided it was appropriate to approach her after snapping at their professor.  
  


"Am I not allowed to be concerned of a lady, or perhaps companionship?" Daley raised an eyebrow.  
  


She was about to tell him to leave her alone to recollect her thoughts, but his question stunned her. Rowena stared at him.  
  


He didn’t respond.  
  


"I...what? Why?"  
  


Daley shrugged his shoulders and answered, "No harm in helping a lady." He then lowered his voice. "Though, I suggest you present yourself at the library before anyone begins whispering of the news. My mother usually says that being in the presence of little birds will quieten them."  
  


From there, a small sincere smile formed across his face. It was a smile that allowed her to see the dear consideration of someone to their loved ones - in this case: his mother.  
  


She relaxed her posture, and Rowena spoke back. "I'm impressed your mother knows to tell you of the workings of tittle-tattle." Tucking her book back into her satchel, her lips twitched.  
  


Rowena took a breath and eyed him up. "Alright then, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Care to assist in proving the whole school wrong?"  
  


At that moment, she saw him remove his right glove and she couldn't help but be surprised by the gesture. As his hand stretched out, confidence strung over his eyes, Daley waited.   
  


No one has ever boldly shaken hands with her; it was always a bow or a curtsy.  
  


After several seconds, she found her hand grasping his firmly. Rowena felt a tug of warmth in her chest.  
  


Daley grinned back and replied, "Oh the pleasure is all mine, my lady."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She spotted him out in the courtyard.   
  


Sitting on a bench, he was heavily focused on what was on his lap. It seemed to be a book, with several pages spread out. As she carefully walked over to him, Rowena realised that her shadow covered the rare sunlight over his piece. Though as he was so engrossed with his work, that it took a minute for him to make a noise.  
  


"If you would mind moving out of the way Daley, I would gladly knock you off your feet." He called out loud, his eyes still focused on the page. "Or perhaps assist you in removing that smirk off your face."  
  


Rowena rested her hands upon her hips - and in an unladylike fashion - snorted. "That's a rather polite way to put it..."   
  


It took a few seconds for the sound of pencil scratching to pause, and he glanced up.  
  


The man's eyes widened, and he stuttered: "Oh...I apologise, my lady-"  
  


Rowena relaxed, putting a smile on her lips. She quickly reassured him, "No worries, I was just curious about the drawings you were doing."  
  


"They are simple sketches. Nothing more." As he shuffled his paper about, fidgeting on the bench, she took that moment to sit down next to him.  
  


She then noticed his face, rough and yet delicate and refined at the same time. His light brown hair was tousled, matching his growing stubble. Light blue eyes that glittered under the spring sun, reminded her of the coast. The light blue waves coming into the harbour.   
  


Rowena leaned her head close down to his side, placing her finger over the sketch but never touching the paper. It was a drawing of the statue of _Helen of Troy_.  
  


It was a simple drawing, with light shades and perfect symmetry of the face. It captured a lot of the key features of the woman, despite only being created in less than an hour.  
  


Rowena admitted, "They are beautiful, but you see here, you missed the detail of her cheeks. On the texts, they said they were sharp and prominent, hollowed and carved by the gods themselves."  
  


Making a tight hum, he responded, "Right...I will take your advice."  
  


Rowena beamed back, pleased and yet slightly surprised by the quick agreement. She saw his eyes remain on the page, glancing his eyes often at her way with nervous jitters. Perhaps she shouldn't have approached him like that, not knowing entirely the whole painting of what the man was like.   
  


Daley had mentioned of him occasionally, and it seemed that the two got along quite well. She mentally cursed herself for being too forward at him. But before she could apologise, a voice cried out from across the courtyard.  
  


"Oh, there you are Lady Emilia!"  
  


Striding over to them, Robert Daley grinned at her and the man sitting beside her, and she sat up once more - noticing several eyes glancing at them.  
  


It was a common occurrence ever since that day when Robert declared her as a dear friend. Several of them mostly gave looks of shame to Robert whilst others looked fearful at her. As if Rowena had entranced the young wealthy man into her bidding and swept her under her skirts.  
  


And to her surprise, Robert didn't bat an eye of disapproval he got from his peers - feeling a sense of pain and overwhelming in her. It was rare for anyone to do something that he had done and she could only hope he would distance himself if her inflictions from others could harm him.  
  


Her eyes strained to the side, to which she found the other man startled.  
  


"You're Lady Emilia? My lady, I-"  
  


She held her hand out to stop him before he could say anything else. "Don't. It is alright. People stopped bowing to me when I told them I won't be the heir." Rowena smiled back and continued, "Just Emilia Darcy, thank you."  
  


Robert grinned, a smirk growing under the expression as he pointed out, "So you've met my friend."  
  


The man held his hand out. As she was about to take it, his hand pulled away. Rowena paused and eyed him until she noticed his other hand gradually take the glove off from his own.  
  


Returning it in front of him, he spoke: "Howard Carter."  
  


Words could not describe how she felt when she took Howard's hand. When her eyes laid over Robert's, he couldn't help but seemed please - beaming like a happy Labrador dog. Rowena raised an eyebrow at his concealed excitement, before grinning at Howard.  
  


She shook his hand and said, "It's lovely to meet you."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_1906 - Cairo  
  
_ **

As her time in Cambridge came to an end, her time with the best people she ever met never did.  
  


Three years alongside Howard and Robert would not easily be described in one word other than a phrase; they gave her hope once more. In the darkness of the past several decades, she never assumed the two could give her the voice that others needed more.  
  


It only took a week to know them together that Rowena felt them as if they knew her since she was a child.   
  


They would study together, enjoy each other's company. And when all the pressure and stress of reality forced them away - they would always come back to each other. She learned that despite what others said, and her for-warnings of what they were doing: they continued to tell her that she never did anything wrong but be born as 'a brilliant and smart woman'.  
  


And so, the three grew closer.  
  


Howard and Rowena enjoyed most of their time sketching and discussing Egyptian mythology and history. Whereas spending time with Robert consisted of heated discussions of the new technology being created and discovered, alongside the growing infatuation the man had with his new courting maiden.  
  


Her name was Josephine, a bright and bold woman that could match Rowena quip words any day. When Robert introduced her to Rowena, Josephine commented on how she could easily make Robert finish his food to which Rowena grinned back. She returned the common afterwards, asking Josephine how she could make Robert finally make time to be quiet.   
  


That day: Robert wished he never got the two together in the same room again.  
  


As well as mingling slowly amongst Robert's 'friends' and socialites, Rowena knew she would never get into their good graces. And it irked her so, knowing how the minds of people in high-class Britain looked down upon her people. She was only glad that her position allowed her to do just that, give them a voice.  
  


And she did. Much like her father another century later: her days during the reign of Queen and Empress Victoria saw her fighting the rights underneath all her other work. Subtle but still progress, the people under her care and those among their friends and families began to see a chance to fight.   
  


Howard took more interest in her choices of spreading her connections to influence a better change. Rowena could tell how he appreciated the work she did and having been explained by him that he would never understand what they were going through - though that he would stand by her.   
  


There was a deep sense in her heart, almost as if she could touch and feel what he understood by those words he spoke to her on graduation day. _"You deserve no less than what anyone else could. You are one of the wisest and cleverest people I know, Emilia."  
  
_

It almost sent her to tears throughout the whole day, when the three of them finally finished their degree in History and Archaeology and celebrated the evening in high spirits. She and Howard kept to themselves, watching their rather tipsy friend every few moments to make sure he was safe.  
  


Though when the reality of the world opened to her once more and opened to her friends for the first time, Rowena assisted them like anyone else.   
  


Her contacts in Egypt provided Howard with a position as an artist for Egypt's Antiquities Services whereas Robert had found a place to work at the museum in Cairo. They appreciated her for the little nudge and push, almost eager to take her along with them as a way to thank her.  
  


What they didn't realise was that Rowena had planned a trip back to the land of the desert and ancient civilization since she enrolled back into education. Her position and plans decades before allowed her to split her identity. As Emilia Darcy, she could easily become a free-spirited woman - enabling to travel and explore the world.   
  


Back in Cornwall, 'Joanna Darcy', the twin sister of herself, was the heiress of her estate.  
  


She was still shocked to this day that a hundred years of secrecy still kept her position as a duchess as Rowena took deep consideration when including others of her condition.  
  


Anyhow, she took her chance with Howard and Robert to travel for work once again. To her surprise, it would seem with all the changes and influx of tourists (plus the French owning the country at present): it seemed nothing had changed to the country she previously searched in.  
  


"This is much different from English excavations."   
  


Robert wiped his hand against his forehead, flicking several droplets of sweat.  
  


A few weeks since they arrived in Cairo and Rowena forgot the climate of the dry landscape. She felt her sweat under her blouse, sticky from the blazing sun as they worked at the excavation site on their first day. They met with their head of the team, a professor she remembered several years back when some of her sponsorships graduated in school.   
  


The feeling of dirt, mud and grime on her nails brought her back to the nostalgia of her first visit to Egypt. The sounds of brushes and trowels among the mutterings of mix Arabic, French and English filled the area. When she spotted Howard finishing his side of the site, he smiled back to her and nudged his head over to where Robert was.  
  


She knew adjusting to the weather would take a while, but Robert showed the most concern for Rowena. His handle of the heat reminded her of the other men she travelled with, those being rid into bed for almost half of it. If Rowena could remember strictly, she envisioned him to be like John Davinier a century ago.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Look, it's much larger than I ever thought it would be..." Howard stared in awe at the scene in front of them. He breathed, "The Pyramids. Built during the Old Kingdom."  
  


Robert stifled a laugh next to her, who glanced over to the man beside him. "I'm impressed Howard hasn't opened his sketchbook already-Ow!"   
  


He jerked with strangled voice, as Howard whacked the object in his hand across his arm. Robert tried to look for support from Rowena, who quirked her lips at the two.   
  


Howard sniffed back and opened his book once more, pencil in hand. "Laugh all you want, Robert." He spoke, "I'm at least doing a better job recording all of this than you."  
  


Her hand laid over her hips and she huffed in exasperation. "Boys, stop squabbling and let's go." She grinned. "I want to see it up close."  
  


They were on their break at one of their sites, luckily overlooking the beautiful ancient wonder, the Nile river beside it. Many tourists were lingering around, wanting to see the beautiful structures the people have built here thousands of years ago. Rowena never saw it this close before, having passed it up the river and back.  
  


"Let's take a photograph, shall we?"  
  


Once Robert suggested the idea, she quickly turned about to search for the camera. Standing several feet away was a cameraman, gladly taking photographs of tourists. Her eyes then went to her friends, who were waiting for her with pleading expressions.  
  


Her eyes darting cautiously at the camera.  
  


She knew it wouldn't be ideal to have her photograph taken, even after years of dodging the contraption as a way to increase security. But how Robert wanted to remember their time in Cairo almost urged her to give in.  
  


"…I suppose." She sighed in defeat and crept up a small grin.  
  


Robert gestured his hand to come between him and Howard. "Come on Emilia, enjoy it!" He pointed out.  
  


Before long, she was pressed between her taller friends, arms snaked behind their backs as they smiled at the camera for several seconds. Once the photographer gave them an indication it was done, Rowena glanced up to them and laughed. Howard was still focused on his sketches despite being on a holiday.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_1908 - Luxor  
  
_ **

"If you hire me, you hire Lady Emilia."  
  


"Howard-" She was about to open her mouth but all she received was a look from him telling her to stop before she could begin. To her chagrin, Rowena stayed silent.  
  


They were sitting inside the Carnarvon's home. A rather splendid and posh home that could outmatch her house in Cairo. There were many rare exotic plants and artefacts, some rather placed in odd parts of the house when Howard and she were invited to meet with the head of the family.  
  


After the Saqqara Affair, which Rowena still felt rather mixed felt off, a professor which Howard knew back from Cambridge: suggested work from a man of noble background.  
  


Of course, she trusted her friend's connections and decisions, though to out-right defend her name wasn't what she intended to put herself into. She didn't need Howard always trying to defend her honour and ladyship, even after the fiasco which the French Ministry had to sort to.  
  


That was why Howard was fired from the Antiquities Company, landing her to write several letters of apologies to the French secretary for the act they've caused. She loved Howard dearly, always fighting for her against those that wished her more than below them. But stubborn as he was, Rowena didn't want him almost dead.  
  


She was only glad that Robert wasn't involved with the violence over the excavation last year, having married Josephine the year previous and was having their first child at that time. Now with a second child on the way, she wondered how Robert was planning his family.   
  


Back to the task at hand, Lord Carnarvon read through their papers.   
  


Most were documents telling him of Howard's plans to excavate a part of the Valley of the Kings. It was solely Howard's project on his own, to which she was eager to get involved in as a consultant. She knew that if she went with Howard to their meeting, she could get some sway in having a partnership with Carnarvon over the sponsorship.  
  


"I assume you will be paying for some of it, then?" Lord Carnarvon asked, to which she predicted.  
  


Nodding, Rowena answered: "Of course. Anything that Carter wishes is something I put myself into when choosing my expenses."  
  


There was doubt in Lord Carnarvon's eyes, to which she maintained a confident look towards. After several seconds of him thinking deeply of the plans, he gave them their blessing. To her spot, she could tell that her friend wanted to grin maniacally.   
  


As the three shook their hands on the agreement, it was that day that Howard, Rowena and Lord Carnarvon would begin the search for the boy king.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_1912 - Luxor  
  
_ **

It was late in the evening, and Rowena sat in Howard's terrace. Her eyes wandering over the pages of the book in front of her as the singular light hanging from the column allowed her to read.   
  


Howard and Robert had gone to bed a couple of hours prior, after a day filled with digging and analysing. Josephine and Carol were back at the Daley home, knowing well that Robert would stay for a couple of weeks to aid with the excavation. As for her, she assured the two that she would come inside once she felt the need to sleep. Or feel like she was about to more likely.  
  


However, it seemed other things were keeping her from the mandatory task of work, as there was an eerie feeling enveloping her mind. Rowena shuffled in her seat, trying to grasp the words in focus but as the gentle breeze of the Egyptian desert stood to a still, it made a shiver crawl up her spine.  
  


It was deadly silent, and quickly she let her eyes gaze off into the darkness in front of her. The desolate rocky landscape was still present, with the mountains leering off in the distance and the dimly lit lights of the town far off from where she was.   
  


Suddenly there was a crumbling sound of gravel and Rowena's body straightened.   
  


Her heart skipped a beat, lifting herself to her feet.   
  


As she felt the golden token under her pockets, she placed her book down and slipped her knife out.  
  


She walked down the steps and out into the open stretch of land, the house several metres away. Her eyes panned around, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. She narrowed her eyes.   
  


' _You're going mad, Darcy._ ' She thought. ' _Maybe I do need to sleep._ '  
  


With an exhale, she began walking back up to the house.  
  


Just as she met the steps, a pair of hands grab her arms.  
  


Rowena was lunged back in full force, tripping with her shoes as the perpetrator tightened their grip into her body. She shook her body, attempting to untangle her torso from them until she elbowed him.  
  


There she screamed.  
  


A hand covered her mouth and bit into them, hearing a painful growl from the man. It was difficult to see anything, her flashes of yellow and orange lights blurring her vision as she continued to pry herself off.  
  


With a quick jab, the edge of the knife impaled into the fabric of the person's clothes.   
  


She twisted inside - hearing him howl and instinctively remove her from his grasp. She pushed herself off. But before she could run, another figure jumped at her.  
  


A knife aimed at her neck.  
  


Rowena widened her eyes and ducked as the knife swiped across the air.  
  


Her feet tripped over several rocks, and she groaned: hitting the ground with her back. She rolled to the side as a foot lifted over her head. Getting back up, her chest tightened and heaved. Adrenaline was the only thing that was keeping her awake as she tried to shout for Robert or Howard.  
  


Then she ran once more, ignoring the burning pain in her back that surged up to her shoulders and neck.   
  


Her vision continued to deteriorate.  
  


" ** _Give it to us, monster!_** "   
  


Turning around, Rowena stared over the empty land.  
  


There were five of them to be exact. All were wearing scarves and masks, hiding their identity to her. But the voice and figure could tell her that they were a male, all carrying weapons. Her intense gaze got them still, letting her carefully thinking about her next moves.  
  


As the token in her pocket warmed, she gritted her teeth and ran towards them.  
  


Her heel kicked the closest one in the knee, letting them topple over before she stabbed her knife in his leg. The next one took her from the back, elbowing them once more by the ribs and twirling her knife across their neck. Blood splattered over her face as the body fell with dead wide eyes.   
  


Her heart dropped and she cut her breath.  
  


"Argh!"   
  


Rowena heard the last two cries. A mixture of anger and horror as they charged at her. She ducked again at the large sword swinging at her neck.  
  


"Get away from her!"  
  


Faintly in the distance, she could hear Robert's voice ring in her ears.   
  


Though her attention was keeping the sword from her radius, trying to find an opening from the person's body. Rowena's wrist was yanked out, almost pulling it out of her socket. But she managed to take the person's other hand.  
  


She pushed them onto the ground, hands against their arms as the rolled into the dirt.   
  


The sound of grunts and bodies hitting metal as she snarled over the masked person. As she tried to press the knife closer to their chest, Rowena was thrown back and hit the ground with a groan. Beads of sweat formed on her face.   
  


With one last strength, she ripped the black mask off.  
  


Rowena's mouth parted.  
  


On top of her was not a man - but a woman.  
  


Even if their face were still covered by cloth, she could tell by the eyes.   
  


Golden brown eyes eyed her.   
  


She did not know how long they were staring at each other, as a sense of blankness befell onto her.  
  


Then she felt a cold rush.  
  


The woman's eyes narrowed, a glint of achievement in them.  
  


Rowena sucked in her breath and froze.   
  


She could feel it. The sword embedded in her stomach.  
  


The woman stayed silent, letting go of Rowena's grasp as she knelt and leaned into her face. Her fingers danced over to her body, feeling for the object in her pocket.   
  


Though as she found the solid token, a dark figure tackled over.  
  


A loud gunshot erupted the air, ending with a large thump.  
  


However, she never budged.   
  


She could feel the pain soar slowly until her breath quickened.  
  


Rowena's eyes frantically looked around, until she found Robert's body running up to her.   
  


He looked dishevelled. Only wearing his nightclothes, coat and boots. A shotgun in his hand. He knelt and pressed his hand over her cheeks. Panic rose to his eyes, and he cried.  
  


"No! Emilia!" He looked over her body.   
  


The sword still inside her.  
  


"No...no..."  
  


She weakly raised her arm, placing her hand over his.  
  


"It's...It's okay...Rob...Robert..." Her voice began to waver.  
  


From her position, all she could see was his face and the silhouette of the sword and house. The background blurred and became hazy, and Rowena struggled to focus on his lips. She rasped out a gasp, tasting the blood in her mouth.  
  


"Stay awake, Emilia!"   
  


Robert's voice began to mix with someone else's.  
  


' ** _It is not your time yet, little one._** '  
  


"HELP! HELP!"  
  


' ** _You must remove the sword.'  
  
_**

"Carter! Howard!"  
  


There was a high-pitched scream, and the wailing of a child's cry, causing Rowena to gain enough sense.  
  


Her hands went to hold the hilt of the sword.  
  


"Emilia...No!"  
  


Another hand covered hers.  
  


She said with struggle. "Help...Help me...we need...to take...it...out."  
  


Robert gaped at her and all she could do was look in plead. He then exhaled and tightened his grip onto the sword.  
  


With all her strength left with Robert's, she cried out loud as they pulled the sword out. The blade slipped out from her hands and clattered onto the floor.   
  


She took a deep breath and tears began to slip from her cheeks.   
  


_'I did it...I did it..._ ' She told the voice in her head.  
  


_' **Rest, little one.**_ '  
  


"What in God's name..."   
  


Those were the last words Rowena heard, as she relaxed her muscles and the world around her began to grow darker.   
  


Rowena finally let go of her breath.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Her first realisation was the feeling of softness under her.  
  


It was a pleasant feeling, reassured by the smooth covers and the semi-firm mattress. As Rowena fluttered her eyelids open, she was blinded by the light. She blinked several times from the dryness of her eyes, adjusting to her vision. Though once the scenery enhanced, she noticed the source of light at first.  
  


The sun peeked high up in the sky, rays slicing into the room, engulfing it in warmth. Right in front of her was a wall, hung on it was a painting of the pyramids of Giza. A dresser stood against the wall, several statues of cats and a stack of books. On the far left was a large plant, the only greenery in a room of browns, gold and black. Opposite the large window was a vanity mirror, with more books and papers stacked.  
  


A photo frame on the desk.  
  


This was her room.  
  


A quiet sigh escaped her lips, as she twitched her fingers. She could hear her heart pump under her chest. Her heart. She was alive.  
  


"You shouldn't move."  
  


Rowena slowly tilted her head to the left and discovered a tired and bedraggled Robert Daley stare at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped herself before she could make a sound. How could she explain to him what happened? In fact, she was not sure what really happened.  
  


All she remembered was seeing desperate eyes from two people. And one of them put a sword in her.  
  


The glasses perched on his nose were slightly cracked, slipping off he looked down. Dark circles were under his eyes, the latter bloodshot and red-rimmed. He had cried. Robert carefully put his hand over her head, brushing the strands off her face.  
  


He croaked, "I... I thought I lost you." A tear slowly rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it roughly away.  
  


Her heart quickened, and she felt her eyes water. Rowena whispered, "It would be a lot harder to lose me, Daley."   
  


A mixture of a cry and laugh escaped his lips, and Robert moved his hand over to hers. Large warm hands enveloped her own, and she could feel a cold bit in them. His ring.  
  


Rowena asked him, "Are they alright? Please say they are."  
  


Robert smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Josie and Carol are fine. Howard and I got some scratches and bruises." A hardened look. "But not...not as..." He shut his eyes, glancing away.  
  


She gulped. He knew what happened to her.  
  


No one in her past hundred years has experienced her 'immortality'. She died alone the first time, buried under the rubble of a temple after being chased by people. The same people who tried to kill her again this time.  
  


Her hand stretched up to his chin and she turned his head to her. Watered eyes stared at her.  
  


"How?" It was barely a whisper.  
  


Rowena answered, "There are things that you may not know of me. And there are things that no one could know so openly." She paused. "I trust you, Robert Daley. And I trust Howard Carter."  
  


His swallowed as he took her hand into his once more. "I trust you, Emilia Darcy."  
  


They waited once more. Not for everyone else but for her. Both Robert and Howard waited for her to find the time to explain her story. It was something she would expect from them, even if she loved them as deeply as anyone could. Something in her heart could detect and inform her that the bond she took with them was stronger than it appeared.  
  


It was a familial bond, and Rowena realised how much she missed the feeling of having family around her.  
  


A few days after she woke up, Rowena was able to easily be moved around without being in pain. There was still a numb feeling. Her hand would subconsciously press against her stomach, flashes of the woman stabbing the sword into it would then pass.  
  


Her nightmares began to return. Nightmares that took her decades to dull down. But now it was replaced by those eyes. Rowena would get worried looks from Josephine and Robert, though theirs could not compare to the concerned gaze Howard gave her.  
  


Howard didn't notice it himself, but his presence around her began to increase. In every minute of the day, either sitting idly at his house in her room or sitting in the terrace: Howard kept his eyes on her. She knew he was just being overprotective, though an irking sense made her want to snap at the man.  
  


"That's why you didn't want a photo."  
  


They were sitting in Howard's office, with Robert pacing the room. She was sat comfortably on one of the armchairs, with Howard himself sat on his chair behind the desk - rubbing his forehead.  
  


Once she finished telling her entire story to them, that was the first thing Robert asked. She breathed and nodded. "Yes." She continued, "Because people will notice how the same face appears between thirty years - never ageing."  
  


"No one knows of this?" Howard asked.  
  


Rowena looked to him and replied, "My estate knows of my situation. Many of my employees have stayed with me since I took the name. Their children and past generations have always taken their trust into my mine for their protection against the wider world."  
  


"And who will protect you?" He asked back.  
  


Her lips thinned. It had always been difficult to understand Howard sometimes. He was different from Robert, reclusive and more to himself. Unlike Robert, who expressed his expressions more vocally. Despite the years since Cambridge, Rowena still saw them as opposites of their personality.  
  


She replied, "No one can protect me."   
  


Her eyes glanced away, fiddling with the token. When she showed the golden coin to them, both of them could only hold it for a few seconds before it could heat up as fast as a furnace. Instead, Robert studied it on the desk. But even his knowledge as a curator at the museum, he never saw anything like it.  
  


"We'll protect you, Emilia."  
  


Rowena was pulled from her thoughts roughly. She stared at Robert.  
  


"You believe me?" She questioned him, not knowing if it was to reassure herself.  
  


There was a sad smile gracing his face, and he lowered himself to her height, placing both hands onto hers. "You're a woman of science and sense. You don't place yourself amongst people who read fantasy novels." He spoke, "Neither blood, time or skin can tell me to not believe you. You are my sister, and I will protect you."  
  


"And I too..."  
  


Her face raised, and she saw Howard stare at her with glistening eyes.  
  


Howard took a deep breath, "My parents are gone, I lost touch with my siblings... apart from you and Robert." He glanced over to Robert and back to her. With a confident tone, he said: "I will protect you if you would have my word as a brother."  
  


Tears sprung in her eyes and she nodded quickly.   
  


"Yes...yes." She tried to form a smile, though it was a mixture of crying and shock. "Both of you...I don't deserve any of your trust...or protection. Or love..."  
  


Arms enveloped her for once after weeks. Afraid of being touched by anyone after what occurred, being comforted by Robert felt like nothing like it.  
  


He whispered in her ear, vowing: "You do, Emilia. You'll always be Emilia to us, no matter name you carry." Robert spoke. "We care for you, sister. We care and we love you until you are ready to move on again."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2003 – Cambridge  
  
_ **

Rowen Bates walked through the corridors of the college, kindly greeting several familiar faces a good day before rushing out into the courtyard.  
  


Luckily it wasn’t as chilly as she expected, deciding to do some of her reading outside and have some fresh air. Even for a historian, she knew that she needed to see the sun sometimes and stretch her legs. Sitting inside was always a joy and peace when concentration on a piece of text. But there were moments her urge as an archaeologist to go outdoors throws her out into the open spaces of the university.  
  


It was why she was sat down in the courtyard with her satchel by her side and a journal and pen in her hands – on a bench facing into the space.  
  


The same bench where she first met Howard Carter for the first time.  
  


It was a surprise it was still here, even exactly a hundred years the same spot hadn’t changed. Sure, there was lichen and some scratches on it, with the occasional dried bird poo on the handles. But it was still here.  
  


This wasn’t why she returned to Cambridge though. Even if it was reminiscing memories of her previous lifetime in this place, Rowena would only go back to the places she’d been to for certain reasons. Mostly for work, but never sentiment. Because looking back would always give Rowena a pure sense of uncertainty in herself.  
  


She would forever doubt who she truly was if she stayed in the same place for too long.  
  


It was why she was here for the last time. Never to go back to Cambridge unless it was vital.  
  


Rowena had collected some books and belongings which she last had, when she was a student again just a few years ago. But with a position as a curator at the British Museum and currently pushing up the ranks to a senior manager, Rowena decided that her time in this school was finished.  
  


However, her time before now would never be gone. Her time with Ahkmenrah and the Tablet…Richard McPhee and Antonio Paladino…  
  


Robert Daley and Howard Carter…  
  


Rowena shut her journal with a hasty pace and gazed upwards, letting out an audible exhale. She couldn’t get the feeling of writing on her new journal, the one which she just bought down in the city centre.  
  


‘ _Maybe it’s the memories_.’ She thought.  
  


Robert would have chuckled back and urge her to write about it. Whereas Howard would silently shake his head as she and Robert bickered about for being nosy.  
  


She blinked away, never realising the tears falling on the cover of the journal. With a quiet sniffle, Rowena shook her head and smiled to herself. ‘ _I miss you, Robert. Howard._ ’ She sadly said. ‘ _But I promised you I would try. Just like what I promised to them._ ’  
  


Opening the journal once more, the front page still fresh and empty: her pen began to flow over the surface as she wrote.  
  


_Hello again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	22. Painters and Pretenders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah, Rowena and Larry are running around the museum with an Archaeologist and Pilot.
> 
> Things unfold and the truth of the tablet comes to the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a huge mistake.
> 
> Holy crapsicle...
> 
> I am sooo sorry.
> 
> This is why you should get a decent sleep.
> 
> Anyways, I am so sorry for those who read the previous part, I missed a BIG Chapter. And I mean A BIG one.
> 
> Apologies again, and I hope this makes up the reason.
> 
> To those who didn't see, it took me twelve hours to realise. Lmao

** Ahkmenrah III  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

He wasn't sure how long they've been running.  
  


One moment he was seeing Rowen's face inches from him, the next he was dodging large squirming tentacles that picked the pretender up like a rag doll. Its purple slimy limbs, wrapping itself onto the mid-torso of the pretender as he was suspended up in the air. Every scene seemed to zoom pass like the wind, picking up the pieces as his family's golden tablet was thrown from one set of hands to another.  
  


However, it was enough for him to pause and smirk internally - to see _him_ wail about in terror.  
  


The pretender.  
  


The one who had done the worst things imagined to his family: only get belittled by a creature of the sea.  
  


Oh, how his true brother and family would laugh if they ever saw this.  
  


As they ran up the stairs, entering the main parts of the museum, Ahkmenrah noticed his surroundings to differ from the museum in New York. Everything seemed so...polished and new. There were new exhibits he never seen, obviously more modern than himself but also ones that appeared to not be part of the world.  
  


The large red bouncing dog...which appeared to be a balloon in some case. He took a double-take at it, almost veering towards it until he heard the woman with them cry aloud in surprise.  
  


"Jiminy cricket, you're Howard Carter!"  
  


His eyes darted to the woman. There was a subtle flicker in his head, wondering where he remembered Amelia Earhart from. But the pilot seemed to be completely too ecstatic, speaking at hundreds of legions a second as she caught the new man seem uncomfortable on how close she stood. Perhaps a trait which new exhibits receive once they're brought to life?  
  


He wouldn't know entirely, as he tended to stray off the new exhibits during the past two and a half years. Ahkmenrah wasn't sure what came over him sometimes; it was as if something in his throat would tighten – an invisible knot. A feeling of a bubbling dread would fill him until all he could become was a gazelle spotted by a predator.  
  


When the new Greek statues arrived, he almost ran back to his exhibit to hide – the trio of muses left with Rowen with questions. They had greeted him with utter kindness and respect…and then he reacted with a splutter the moment they asked him questions.  
  


Larry only assured him it was just nerves of seeing new people, and Ahkmenrah scoffed at that notion. He was supposed to be a leader, a king. He could never cower down by his anxiety.  
  


Well, Ahkmenrah would never know. Since the next several nights, the Greek muses apologised to him – making him grow pink in embarrassment. He could only thank Rowen for saving his skin and ushering the giggling women from his presence.  
  


Okay, he may have some issues of interacting with the other gender.  
  


A little memory of his brother telling with a smirk;  
  


" ** _You're terrible with women, little brother_**." He would say. " ** _How are you going to please mother if you're running away from them?_** "  
  


From that day on, Ahkmenrah tried to prove his brother wrong. That led to an incredibly angry maiden, his mother scolding him for his actions and his brother laughing at the entire situation for the next few weeks.  
  


It wasn’t his fault for having no preparation on the surprise meeting with a potential bethrothed.  
  


Well: not potential anymore.  
  


He hid back the gradual warmth of his cheeks as Amelia sent a smile to his direction. It reminded him of Sacagawea's first meeting with him.  
  


Amelia babbled on as they walked through the large corridors of the gallery of paintings. "I read about you, Robert Daley and Emilia Darcy in the papers. An honour to meet a man of adventure and discovery." The name 'Darcy' made Ahkmenrah's head turn to the woman in question, who stood too eerily still.  
  


Darcy...  
  


Joanna...Darcy?  
  


_"This isn't you." He spoke. Holding a piece of paper up in front of her, Ahkmenrah crumpled his eyebrows to a frown, watching Joanna smile with her eyes. A typical thing his friend did whenever she found anything amusing.  
  
_

_She thanked him once he passed it towards her, mouth parted with a silent sigh. "That's because I wasn't always Joanna Darcy, Ahkmenrah." She continued, her hands gliding on top of one another.  
  
_

_He noticed her fingers rubbing the ring on her left hand subconsciously.  
  
_

_"When I got married, you usually use your partner's last name." She explained. "Hence why I'm called Bates."  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah frowned and asked, "Why choose to change your name for the sake of your partner?"  
  
_

_Her mouth opened wide, but seconds later Joanna closed her mouth. He knew that her mind was running faster than any chariot he ever rode, her irises glazed over as she stared off.  
  
_

_But once she blinked, she slowly answered. "Well...I never really thought of that...Huh." A grin spread across her face. Joanna looked up at him. "I guess, we do it now as a way to bind our marriage. Our...love." Her eyes immediately looked down.  
  
_

_An awkwardness stilled between the two.  
  
_

After that conversation, the topic of her names rarely slipped into their meetings. Ahkmenrah knew not to divulge into personal things that time as he saw the rawness and cracks within Rowen's persona. Though now, he was not sure how to approach the subject. It questioned him.  
  


But the worst feeling in his mind and stomach had to be more than that.  
  


He doubted Rowen, and that made his chest almost beat in ache.  
  


Who was she before Joanna Bates? Before Joanna Darcy? Even _he_ never knew who she was before taking the Bates name. It was always Joanna or Rowena. Not Emilia.  
  


The doubt only grew larger as Ahkmenrah saw her almost glance away, trying to walk quietly. She wanted to feel like a ghost, and he knew it wouldn't be best. Rowena easily lost herself to her thoughts, making it harder for him from gravitating towards her. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that everything would be alright.  
  


However, he urged himself to stick himself next to the other man - who was the other person that made Ahkmenrah feel odd about Rowen. Who was this Howard Carter? How did he know Rowen and when?  
  


A memory crossed his head once more.  
  


_"Howard used to braid my hair." Joanna confided.  
  
_

_They were sitting outside in the courtyard of the college. The sky clear in the summer night. Luckily, there were enough lamps on the outer pillars, letting him see what he was occupied. He had never braided her hair before, and he felt his sheepishness increase as his fingers trailed through the strands of her thick hair. How they got to this situation was a result of his pestering, telling her of his mother's braids and the different styles their people wore.  
  
_

_But never had he imagined doing it now, in another country, in another time. He was out of practice. Centuries of being dead need not of his expertise in hair styling.  
  
_

_But here he was, a deep intimacy in the making as he braided each strand carefully.  
  
_

_"Howard?" Ahkmenrah repeated. He never heard of her speaking of him before.  
  
_

_"A...friend." Joanna hesitated. "He had nine siblings and being one of the middle children with younger sisters: he learned how to braid their hair. Of course, their hair would be different to mine, or so he says."  
  
_

_Even if her head was facing the other way, he could sense the smile placed on her lips.  
  
_

_"But he said he liked a challenge." She continued, "It was something we would often like to do, despite knowing I already knew how to."  
  
_

_He asked her, “Who taught you?”  
  
_

_She paused and pursed her lips, thinking carefully. “…Someone I once knew.” Joanna answered. “I can’t exactly remember when.”  
  
_

It was then on that he began to speculate.  
  


And a flickering speckle of uncertainty was dwindled by her smile and kind eyes.  
  


Ahkmenrah was almost relieved that Amelia returned his thoughts into the issue they had - the pretender and the tablet.  
  


Amelia spoke, "You're quite the popular fellow, Mr Daley. Why don't you just skedaddle?"  
  


"We can't _skedaddle_ , our friends are being held down there and we need to get them out of here." Larry murmured; his eyes too focused in front of him.  
  


Rowen muttered, "We have an issue at hand though."  
  


Ahkmenrah hummed in agreement, giving an approving look to Larry.  
  


The man then asked back, "And what of the Tablet? Ahk, can you try and stop all of this? Tell it to stop making everyone alive?"  
  


With widened eyes, Rowen shook her head furiously. "No, that is the worse idea you have ever thought of Larry!" She faced the night guard with an exclamation. "If we change the Tablet, all the exhibits might have already moved. We'll be risking the exhibits wandering outside!"  
  


A shiver tingled down his spine. He could imagine the chaos, the animals roaming the city. Soldiers and vehicles rampaging and fighting...and things that should never be alive scaring everyone accidentally. Ahkmenrah blinked away those predictions, praying to _Ra_ that it won't come to that conclusion.  
  


Larry then sighed heavily, rubbing his face with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He muttered, "Then what are we gonna do?"  
  


The Guardian of Cambridge pursed her lips, before answering: "The best way is to make sure that man doesn't get it." Rowen elaborated, "Even if it means hiding about in Washington until sunrise. We should plan how we could lure them out."  
  


A grim look crossed Larry, and he knew that the night guard did not seem convinced on Rowen's plan. He saw Rowen give Larry an implored stare, but the darted gazes from both Howard and Amelia caused a silent rift between the truth.  
  


' _If young Nick were here, he would call this an awkward situation,_ ' Ahkmenrah thought and bit his lip.  
  


His eyes caught Larry's and he couldn't help but exhale: "I must agree with Rowen, Larry. We can't let the pretender have it." Gesturing to the Tablet in his hands, it did not appear to be damaged, though a little bit sticky.  
  


Perhaps from all the running they did.  
  


Ahkmenrah continued, "The Tablet tends to make everyone return to their places once it is close to sunrise, though with a museum this large: I'm not sure how much power it holds."  
  


Both of his friends nodded to him, Rowen giving a slight apologetic glance. He felt his chest warm as Larry's face relaxed, his hand patting her shoulder before leaning down to whisper something. The night guard saw Ahkmenrah look at them, earning him to grow confusion at both Larry's mirthful eyes and a surge of envy grew in his heart. A mix of between an apologetic look and a 'don't be jealous'.  
  


He mouthed 'stop looking jealous, it's not a good look.'  
  


Ahkmenrah blinked and almost spite back the night guard. He would not have his feelings in the way of this situation. No matter how much he felt his cheeks grow warm and he quickly averted his eyes away.  
  


' _Pull yourself together_ ,' He told himself.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

They then continued onward, navigating around the Gallery Museum at ease to notice the lack of artefacts scattered around. Most of them were paintings hung upon the walls, and the odd statue hobbling about. Gladly he was not the only one intrigued. Next to him, Howard Carter thoroughly inspected the moving painting whilst Rowen, Larry and Amelia were eyeing another.  
  


He heard Larry from a couple of metres away, "This is new." He muttered, "Hey, it's all right. I don't want to hurt you."  
  


"I don't think it's you they're afraid of, Mr Daley."  
  


He heard the shifting of sandals and Ahkmenrah quickly turned, his arm pulling Howard behind him. In one blinked, he noticed a small figure move in front of him. Rowen's arms clenched in fists, as she pushed him and Howard back.  
  


Well, this was out of the blue.  
  


About ten guards appeared, surrounding them in an offensive position he recognised. As they pointed their spears at them, He tucked the Tablet tightly around his arm feeling it warm against him. His eyes narrowed, glaring at their scowls as they began to taunt him. The disgusting words they spoke in his native tongue made his blood simmer.  
  


He glanced to the side to where Rowen was, who also plastered the same expression. She eyed him with a nod. They could try to fight them, but centuries dead with no danger has gotten him rusty. Even fighting down in the archives for two nights was a struggle.  
  


Almost embarrassing for him, to say at least.  
  


However, just as he was to lunge at the guard, a sharp three-pointed object thrust at them from Larry.  
  


"Back off! Just back off! I will fork you! How about you, huh?" Larry jabbed the pitchfork at the guard, making them fall back. He swung it around the air, making Howard and him get closer to them.  
  


Rowen called out, "Larry-"  
  


Both their movements halted, gawking at the pilot. She snatched the pitchfork from Larry's hands, taking it above her shoulder.  
  


"Never send a boy to do a woman's job!" Amelia exasperated, "I spent two weeks spear-hunting with a tribe in Micronesia-"  
  


As she threw the farming tool at the wax guards, one of the soldiers caught it mid-air at ease.  
  


Well. That was anticlimactic.  
  


Amelia said quietly, "The Micronesians had much slower reflexes."  
  


The attack only aggressed the guards, who began to encase them from the back wall. As he pressed the Tablet closer to his torso, Ahkmenrah planted his feet firmly on the floor. He would dare turn the Tablet's panels if it was the last resort.  
  


"Well, no shit!" Rowen barked back and tugged his wrist. "Come on!"  
  


He turned to her, watching _half_ of Larry's body enter the painting. His breath hitched in surprise as he shut his eyes as he felt his body thrown at the wall. He was not sure if he was going to hit something or not, but as his feet landed onto something hard: he opened his eyes.  
  


The moment his eyes flickered open his mind struggled to comprehend his surroundings.  
  


Everything was black and white. They were standing what seemed to the street, sensing the dry air and fumes of smoke. Buildings towered over him, with the rumbling noise of planes. Various streamers and bunting decorated cafes and restaurants.  
  


He was seeing New York City in another time.  
  


Ahkmenrah flicked his head around to spot where the sound came from.  
  


"It's over! It's over! It's all over!"  
  


The people around him chanted, cheering and screaming their lungs out.  
  


There were many on the street, dancing, singing. Celebrating something he learnt to know from the first years in Cambridge. This was the end of the war, _the_ world war. A war which Rowen lived through, that _Joanna_ lived through.  
  


He was glad that he saw those films depicting the celebration on the small device called a television. There was one that sat in the corner of Rowen's old office, hidden by boxes and books from those who wanted to steal it. But when she did put it out, it was not often. Most of the things shown were much like where he was now...monochromatic. But the mention of the war was rare from Rowen herself.  
  


"Well, this is one humdinger of a hootenanny." Amelia loudly stated, having to raise her voice from the already collection of voices.  
  


The five of them shuffled through the crowd, turning their heads every few seconds to see if they've followed them through. He ignored the ogling eyes people were giving them, carefully keeping Rowen round his arms. He would not let go of her this time.  
  


Larry apologised before taking the ringing phone onto his ear. "Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me. Wow, four bars in 1945." He paused, "Hello?"  
  


Howard and Amelia walked in front of them, with Larry in front. He tried to guide to Rowen, but her head seemed to look everywhere making it difficult to navigate himself and her own through.  
  


Worry began to fill him.  
  


They then paused suddenly, and he noticed Larry jumping in surprise. The black and white man wearing uniform gave them a startled look. He heard the night guard apologise once more.  
  


Exclaiming, the man said to Larry, "I... Hey! Wait a minute! Buddy, what's your hurry? Didn't you hear? The war's over!"  
  


He awkwardly patted the man's shoulder and pointed at them as well as from behind them. "Sorry. These guys are chasing me and my friends."  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced over his shoulder and saw the soldiers slowly edging closer to where they stood. He pleaded from Larry, hoping that he could move as sooner as possible.  
  


Gazing from behind them, the man's eyes narrowed – brows furrowing in disbelief and confusion. He asked, "What? What am I looking at, _Mardi Gras_? What unit are you guys from?"  
  


"We're from Brooklyn," Larry answered back, earning widened eyes.  
  


In several moments, the man gestured to a group of men that wore the same uniform as him. He cupped his hands and shouted, "Hey, fellas! These so-and-sos are trying to rough up my pal here just 'cause he's from Brooklyn!"  
  


That caused them to heighten their voices, following their man as they charged towards the soldiers. Ahkmenrah sighed internally in relief, as the pretender's followers being taken down easily. Thanking the uniform man, they paced down the street again.  
  


Amelia and Howard were racing further to Larry, realising now that Rowen wasn't paying attention to what had occurred. It was getting harder to guider her through, almost carrying her body with the tablet.  
  


After getting down back to the street, he took her hand, but she didn't move.  
  


"Rowen?" Concern began to fill him up as Ahkmenrah tugged her sleeve.  
  


She stood eerily still.  
  


Terror overtook her face.  
  


With his free hand, he carefully entwined into hers. Her cold palms sent the nerves tingle up his chest. Rowen was staring at the people around her, but as Ahkmenrah got closer: he realised the glassy-eyed appearance of her expression.  
  


He leaned down his head, reaching his hand from hers. The warmth of her cheeks against his hand sent his heart beating faster.  
  


He softly murmured to her, though loud enough to dwindle the noise. "Rowen. It's alright, listen to my voice..."  
  


It was there the guardian of Cambridge tilted her head up, wide watery eyes gazing up at his. His heartbeat harder against the walls of his chest, cracking at what he saw.  
  


Pain. Sorrow.  
  


He remembered when he first experienced these 'moments'. How she would stop mid-sentence or between activities to freeze like a statue. How she was would stare in front of her for a minute before snapping herself back to what she was doing. Sometimes he would do it himself if Rowen froze too long and made him concerned.  
  


However, this was different to the ones he saw years ago. Definitely not the ones he saw on the back-car park of the museum.  
  


These were eyes who saw trauma as if it occurred then and there. Haunted and hollowed.  
  


"Is it over?... Is it over?" Her voice seemed so far away from her own body.  
  


Ahkmenrah said firmly, trying to pull her back to reality. "The war happened years ago, Rowen. You're in the 21st Century now." Ahkmenrah slowly recited. "Your name is Rowen Bates; the year is 2009. You are safe now."  
  


They remained standing within the celebration, though hardly feeling entwined within the cheerful and ecstatic people around them. He pulled her into an embrace, feeling her hairbrush his collarbone as her head hid his chest. He felt himself heat up, afraid that she could hear his heart from even the shouting.  
  


Confusion grasped his mind quickly, making Ahkmenrah breathe raggedly as she stepped back.  
  


With a heavy sigh, she turned up to him and spoke. "Thank you."  
  


A flutter in his stomach erupted, and he swallowed the imaginary date down his throat. Ahkmenrah gave her a small smile before taking her hand. Rowen looked at him, a questionable expression. He was about to speak until they heard cries of his native tongue.  
  


The soldiers found them, and the two ran together through the crowd. While he spotted Howard and Amelia hiding between some couples. As he wandered his eyes to search for their night guard friend, he froze in surprise to find Larry Daley – his lips pressed against a woman's.  
  


His eyebrows kept raised as he found the guards pass easily through, barely batting an eye at the clear distinct difference. Rowen coughed next to him, and Ahkmenrah couldn't help but chuckle. They were going to have questions with him when they mention Rebecca.  
  


As the four of them got closer to the floating frame, Rowen tapped Larry's shoulder. "Any time you're done, Larry." She said.  
  


Their night guard ended his 'make-out' session, slightly flushed. When his eyes caught theirs, Ahkmenrah thinned his lips to refrain from laughing. He could only guess how annoyed Rowen was at him, considering how his friend was rather close with the museum docent.  
  


Larry guided them through the painting, letting Rowen exit last. Telling them to turn the painting, he saw Amelia and Howard help Rowen and Larry push the front of the painting against the wall. There were a few muffled cries, but after a few seconds, it grew quiet.  
  


His body relaxed slightly, shoulders slacking a bit as he inspected the tablet. It seemed to be safe and intact. Turning his head to the direction of voices, he spotted Howard and Rowen speak and a different flare appeared in his mind.  
  


He then caught Rowen's eyes to which the flare dissipated.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Amelia quirked up a grin and said, "So you're quite the smooth operator, aren't you, Mr Daley?"  
  


Larry laid down his foot and faced Amelia. "Look, nothing personal, but we're kind of in the middle of something here that's not really your fight."  
  


"It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?"  
  


With wide eyes, Larry spluttered, "No! No - I mean - it's because we've got this ancient raised-from-the-dead evil Pharaoh guy who's willing to kill me, Rowen, his brother and probably anyone near me to get this tablet so he can rule the world."  
  


Rowen grumbled, "Sounds familiar..."  
  


He looked at her with a gentle smile to which she returned with a similar one.  
  


The pilot shouted in revelation, "So it is because I'm a woman!"  
  


"No!" Larry rushed out. "Look, I-"  
  


"No, you look, Mr Daley! If it weren't for me, you'd still be lost in that monochromatic mayhem!"  
  


Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows, surprised to find Amelia poking Larry rather viciously at the chest before gesturing at the door they came out from. It almost reminded him of his mother, who in turn could be rather...temperamental when it came to going against her strengths and position as the queen.  
  


Larry gaped at her, "Lost in what-"  
  


"Black and white photo, you boob!" Amelia exasperated.  
  


Ahkmenrah smiled while he noticed Rowen twitch her lips at the scene. Even Howard looked amused, slightly startled by the pilot’s temper. That had put a mental smirk on Ahkmenrah’s face when he spotted the discomfort growing in the archaeologist’s face.  
  


Though that did not stop the pilot from defending her side.  
  


"Now listen and listen good.” She jabbed her index finger at Larry. “I can help you. I want to help you, and not because I like you, which so far I don't, but because I smell adventure, and, damn it, I want in." Amelia sighed, calmly explaining herself.  
  


Larry stared at her for a while, before shaking his head and blankly stated: "Okay. Don't blame me if something happens to you- Ow!" He was stopped by a punch on his arm.  
  


Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrow as he saw Rowen stop Larry from putting more fuel into the fire - thanking her mentally.  
  


Rowen gritted her teeth, stepping between the night guard and the pilot and spoke with a sweet tone. "What my dear friend means, Amelia, is that you may join us considering I've dragged Howard into this." She pointed to where Howard lingered, standing idly and quiet throughout the whole fiasco.  
  


The man beside him nodded. "Indeed, you did. Now explain how...what's happening?" His eyebrows creased. "Why are we being chased by Egyptian soldiers who seek to have what is in his hand?" Howard asked, pointing at the golden artefact around his arm.  
  


All eyes directed to him.  
  


Ahkmenrah gulped.  
  


Amongst all other things, he should have expected this after all. Almost an hour of running, being chased by the pretender's soldier should create enough stress and questions to all of them. The confusion between Amelia and Howard's, the concern in Larry's, all made Ahkmenrah wring his hands over the grooves of the Tablet.  
  


However, seeing Rowen Bates cautiously step towards him with suspicion made him sick to his stomach. Why couldn't he say it? Say everything he wanted to tell her all those years.  
  


When she first approached the topic to him, Ahkmenrah had only known the historian for barely a year. Those months together, learning a new world and language felt longer to him. He almost felt he could trust the woman. But instead of prying: she took comforting him her priority. Rowen waited for him to say the truth of his family and never confided with his parents.  
  


Now, Ahkmenrah could not. But he couldn't reveal all of the truth at the same time.  
  


His mind was being tugged like a rope. In one head: he should confess what his family did. How his family was thrown away. How the man out to get them was the son of _the_ traitor that overtook his brother’s throne.  
  


He wanted to tell them that the man they called him Kahmunrah was _not_ Kahmunrah at all.  
  


A pretender.  
  


However, the first thing that came to his mind was what his friends needed first.  
  


Ahkmenrah slowly answered, "...The pretender seeks to open the gate to the underworld."  
  


There was a strain in her voice as Rowen spoke. "The Tablet..."  
  


His eyes drew to hers, and he throat tightened before he could speak. He needed to tread carefully through his words. Ahkmenrah explained, "The Tablet has been used for many things, and unfortunately: some for the wrong types."  
  


"So…when are you going to tell me the truth then?" Rowen asked.  
  


Her face grew blank, almost inexpressive. Though as her irises bore to him, it felt like being pierced by an arrow. Its flame making his skin itch as a cold shiver ran down his spine.  
  


He blinked. "I'm sorry?"  
  


Letting out a scoff, Rowen hissed. "You heard me? Or do I have to pry your mind on what the bugger is going on!" She took another step, her body inches from his. "If _he_ isn't your brother, to which everything and everyone lied about: then who is he?"  
  


There was something daunting when seeing the anger flash in Rowen's face. Meanwhile, he felt the betrayal and sadness underneath the mask, though Ahkmenrah sought out the pride of how easily Rowen could decipher his words.  
  


Ahkmenrah pursed his lips and said, "I cannot say."  
  


He was about to flinch as he spotted her hand twitch upwards. But instead, Rowen placed her hand on her hips and pointed at whatever direction. "So, you want me to continue calling him your brother to which I think I'm kind of insulting you and your family. Or would we call him the golden wax dickwad that wants to kill us?" She questioned.  
  


A flicker of annoyance appeared in his mind, and Ahkmenrah told himself to hold it together. He gritted his teeth and asked calmly, "Because if the world knew of who he truly is, would you then seek the Tablet?"  
  


"He's your enemy," Rowen stated blandly. "Why?"  
  


He noticed that neither of the mortal people around them reacted. Two knew who Rowen was, but it seemed to Ahkmenrah that he could understand Rowen's desperation of wanting to know the truth.  
  


They were thrown back to the memory all those years ago.  
  


When he denied her of telling his side of the story. Now: he realised how important it could have been for them.  
  


Taking caution with what he spoke, Ahkmenrah breathed. "It isn't my tablet...it was never mine."  
  


All their eyes widened greatly - even Rowen seemed surprised. Their eyes simultaneously darted downwards to where he gripped the tablet under his arm.  
  


"Then who is it?" Larry asked this time.  
  


He confessed aloud, "It is my brother's...my real brother." Ahkmenrah turned away to face Larry instead with a hardened expression.  
  


"The pretender knows only the Tablet answers to Kahmunrah, and Kahmunrah alone.” He continued. “And one way to open the gate is to let everyone believe it is him. Then…he can use the Tablet.”  
  


Everyone grew quiet.  
  


Larry interrupted said, "Wait, wait wait, so that isn't your brother..." He flailed his arms in a gesture. "Then who the crap is that guy?"  
  


There were still questionable glances coming to his direction, so he took a deep breath. Who couldn't tell them? Hell: he was forbidden to even mention their names from the gods themselves - who sent them all for this forsaken earth. The gods who gave them his brother's tablet, all because his family decided to gamble with the higher powers and the divine.  
  


He gave a silent pray to _Ra_ in his head, wishing (hoping for once in his eternal life) this was not happening right now. He could easily get through fifty years in a sarcophagus (actually no, backtrack that notion: it was the worst fifty years of his life), how easy could he prevent the pretender's game from revealing the truth before he was ready to do it himself?  
  


Biting his lip, he then added, "Whatever you do, do not mention his name for it fuels his power. Something to do with magic, I assume." Ahkmenrah paused, "Therefore... _Wax dickwad_ seems appropriate."  
  


"Assuming that I've caught up with what's been going on from that, I'd say _Wax dickwad_ is still out to get us," Howard answered, earning a smile from all of them.  
  


Amelia hummed back, "Agreed." To his opinion: he couldn't agree more.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

After confiding with Larry to which direction they should go, they walked further through the Eastern side of the building. A long ornated corridor was in front of them, coming into a dome-shaped pavilion. There was a fountain in the middle.  
  


Sounds of boots clicked through marble flooring, and his eyes found everyone wide-eyed. Ahkmenrah head behind a tall fern plant whilst Howard and Rowen hid behind the pillars. He panned the room, finding both Amelia and Larry crouching by the fountain.  
  


From the corner from his eye, Ahkmenrah saw the unfamiliar silhouette of soldiers. They reminded him of the Civil War soldiers, though now they wore faces – stern and calculating as they pointed their bayonets as they marched through. His heart raced as he noticed them go round.  
  


Once the soldiers disappeared: Ahkmenrah let go of his breath.  
  


He leaned down, seeing the glint of gold to see if it was still there. The Tablet hummed in his hand, a warmth that comforted him. He moved out into the open, continuing to watch from both exits. Howard and Rowen got out from their alcove, standing by Amelia and Larry.  
  


The corridors began to look similar to him, winding down the various exhibits as he willingly followed Larry around.  
  


As they rounded the corner, he bumped straight into Rowen.  
  


His brows creased low as he stumbled back - only to find a man in front of them. He wore a navy coat, with golden buttons and white trousers. Black silver-lined boots tapped against the marble and it reminded him of the soldiers who passed them.  
  


"And so, the little tiny man who could not be a smaller or shorter mouse runs into the claws of the giant cat!" The man slyly said, moving towards Larry and Amelia.  
  


At the same time, he heard several boots move around them until they surrounded him and the four in a circle.  
  


The former night guard spoke, "You're really hung up on the height, aren't you?" He raised his eyebrow, "You're Napoleon. There's a complex named after you. You're famous for being little, and it's true. Look."  
  


There was a flash of aggravation on the general's face. Napoleon taunted, "Oh, you naive American man-boy. I have you now, as well as your little small friends." A small shotgun waved about near Larry's face.  
  


"The only one smaller than you _is_ probably Rowen-ow." Larry yanked his arm away and sent a glare at the Guardian of Cambridge. "Please could you stop that?”  
  


"Can't help when you're annoying me," Rowen grumbled and folded her arms.  
  


Napoleon studied them, letting Ahkmenrah tense once more. He sensed Rowen's growing impatience as Larry and the French general sought out an odd subject of height.  
  


"Now, if your boyfriend would kindly come with me..."  
  


Larry bulged his eyes in shock and stammered, "I-I'm not her boyfriend."  
  


Amelia, who bore the same expression, echoed, "Not her boyfriend."  
  


He heard Howard and Rowen cough next to him.  
  


Ahkmenrah piped out, "He's not her boyfriend."  
  


"Just friends." Larry finished.  
  


Napoleon gestured to him and his friend, "And what of the pharaoh's brother and…mistress-"  
  


She spoke harshly, "Call me that and I will rip your ear off."  
  


Smirking, Napoleon circled them. "Feisty, I can see why that pharaoh wants you too."  
  


Suddenly, he watched in surprise as a dagger appeared in her hand. Rowen danced around the general, his back against her chest as she took his neck under her arm. Her other hand grabbed his arms, tucking them back into a painful fold as she pressed the blade near his chin.  
  


In a sultry tone, he heard the familiar language escape her mouth. "I know you, Mr Napoleon." Rowen said in French, "You made me go home six years late because of your petty Empire. Do you see it standing still?"  
  


"No-"  
  


"No. So, I'm rather impatient. Men are chasing me with Birkenstocks and pointy sticks - wanting to kill me and my friends." She asked, "It does a bit to a woman, does it?"  
  


Realising Larry knew nothing that was being exchanged, Ahkmenrah did notice both Amelia and Howard reacting differently. Whilst Amelia smirked at Rowen’s comment, Howard rolled his eyes. Perhaps it was a common occurrence.  
  


Napoleon struggled against her hold, but as he hitched up his breath, Ahkmenrah felt the metallic uniform and boots move around them. On the back of his head, he felt something cold press against him. The small round shape of the gun close to his ear.  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced his eyes to the right and saw the others - the butt of their guns against Howard, Amelia and Larry's.  
  


"You do not know what you are talking about." Napoleon murmured next to her ear, his breath. "I suggest you remove the knife from my neck, or I will blow up your friend's little head."  
  


Her lips thinned, darting her face away in disgust. Arms loosening, she moved the dagger away from the general's neck, twirling it around her hand before sheathing back into her inner sleeve.  
  


Ahkmenrah stepped forward, eyeing the soldier next to him. He sent a cold expressionless look to the soldier, seeing the nervous stare grow in their eyes.  
  


"Ahk, don't." Her eyes warned him, causing his arm to twitch.  
  


Napoleon held out his hand, palm out. He took a deep breath and kept his scowl onto him. Gently, Ahkmenrah stretched the tablet out. The general grasped the side of the tablet, having to tug the artefact from him with gritted teeth.  
  


With a fake smile, Napoleon thanked him before placing the Tablet under his arm. He didn’t ignore the tiny flinch the Frenchman gave out, making him more curious.  
  


Ahkmenrah inhaled back a snarl and looked to his side. Both Amelia and Howard were shoved back behind the soldiers. Whilst Howard tried to force himself pass; Amelia firmed herself - a face scrunched in annoyance.  
  


"Now, if you'll excuse me, lead on!" The general barked, pushing Rowen forward alongside Larry's side.  
  


He shouted for her, "Rowen-" But his words trailed off.  
  


A warning gaze sent to him made him stop.  
  


" ** _I have...a plan. Don't worry._** " She spoke back in Ancient Egyptian to him. Her eyes a mix of comforting him and worrying him.  
  


He nodded back, breathing out in defeat. The soldiers took him by his arms, twisting them behind him. He shuffled in his feet, snarling at them as they tied his back with rope. After they knotted it tightly, he looked up to see Howard and Amelia watch helplessly from behind the uniformed men.  
  


He kept his head up high as the French man's soldiers walked with them, guns pointed at them as they followed Rowen and Larry with Napoleon. Ahkmenrah reassured himself that they were going to be okay; that she would be okay.  
  


However, he could not ignore the smudge of hesitance when she spoke those words. He swallowed the bile down his throat and pushed the thoughts back once more. No matter how much he did, Rowen's face of surprise could not disappear. How her eyes broke, glistening into a mixture of brown and gold. How her face morphed from anger to desperation, and then to shock and betrayal.  
  


Never had Ahkmenrah felt his chest tightened - and how a part of his heart withered to see her face look at him at something he hated being called once ago. A liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry.
> 
> I still can't believe I messed up the most intimate moments.
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	23. Grains of Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the real chapter in the correct timeline! Jedediah, Octavius and Sacagawea try and escape their imprisonment. However, things don't go to plan.
> 
> And the pretender reveals something very important...and dangerous information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for mixing up my chapters. I never have done this ever, and I've been writing for years.
> 
> Hopefully, this brushes up some of the plots. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding.
> 
> Hope you have a good day/night!

** Jedediah I  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

When the sound of footsteps quietened, Jedediah peered through the small rusted bolthole of the metal wall. The leather-wearing guards disappeared, tugging Ahkmenrah, Rowen and Larry away. He blew out a breath and glanced over to his shoulder.  
  


Right next to him, Octavius stood by him. The general's face was so close to him that he could he feel his breath against his face - sensing a shiver run down his face and spine.  
  


Jedediah hid back his flushed face before returning his eyes out into the open warehouse.  
  


"We've gotta get outa here." He muttered under his breath. He decided to jump through the crack, landing on the ledge on the other side. His eyes wandered upwards, spotting the large spear locked over the metal bars. It would take more men to break those spears and will take more time to break them as well.  
  


' _If Gigantor hadn't left and forgotten us..._ ' Jedediah shook the thought away and internally growled. He could complain and blame the nightguard all night, but it would not help them escape this metal cage that crazy pharaoh pushed them in. But nothing could let him forget the moment he woke up, lying in a bunch of packing puffs.  
  


It felt worse than being caged in his Diorama exhibit. There were no open desert plains or railways - only darkness and silence. He almost panicked until Octavius found him by the side of the crate, who had been calling out from the outside to let them out. Not that the roman's presence eased his erratic breathing, and the sweat growing under his brow. He was only glad Octavius was in the same situation as him.  
  


Perhaps after two years, being in captivity in their exhibit for fifty-four years, changed things. That night when saving Ahkmenrah's golden tablet from those old and pesky nightguards, he had to suck up his grudge against the toga-wearing man for the sake of their own lives. And driving a monster truck was vastly different from riding a horse, making him swallow his fear so _he_ wouldn't notice.  
  


Why should he care anyway? Gaius Octavius was just one man who was more attentive to his presence than anyone else. Who made sure to say good evening to him every night for the past two and a half years. Who enjoyed driving next to him despite getting carsick if he got too reckless. Who always stared at him with those obnoxiously dazzling eyes.  
  


Jedediah shook his head.  
  


What was he thinking? Two nights ago, they were shoved inside a crate.  
  


Now they were in another cage, just a larger one.  
  


"Do you think we'll be able to open it?"  
  


Jedediah peeked inside and found Sacagawea gazing down at him.  
  


He pointed at the spears and explained, "No can do Sac. These Tikki torches are quite durable. Even battle ramming it ain't gonna break it." His fist lightly tapped the rough door, hearing it ring.  
  


Sacagawea hummed and pursed her lips. The Native American woman stood looking away - pondering.  
  


In turn, Octavius leaned out from the opening, staring out. "We must find a way." He paused and eyed him before glancing over to Sacagawea. "Perhaps we might be able to search for them?" He asked.  
  


"Ahkmenrah and I scouted the upper levels, and it is larger than our museum. It will be a long time to find them." Sacagawea shook her head. "I think it's best to wait. I'm sure they will need us to come out at some point tonight."  
  


Looking up to her, Jedediah sighed and folded his arms. He twirled his gun around his hand, and he spoke, "I do hope you're right Sac."  
  


It may have been minutes or hours, but when he heard a cry of protest from the outside, Jedediah stood up immediately from his position and looked out. Walking toward them were the Egyptian guards, lugging a man in navy uniform at them. With a rush, Jedediah hissed at Sacagawea and she nodded.  
  


The clanking of the spears being pulled away echoed, and Octavius and Jedediah waited on the top ledge of the metal doors. Their men by their sides. It was a quick and rush plan, but if there was enough of them to escape: they could help their friends and find allies.  
  


Bow drawn back; she held the arrow tightly in position.  
  


Once the sound of the door opening, Jedediah took a deep breath.  
  


As the door opened: Sacagawea unleashed the arrow.  
  


Hitting the guard's forehead, the guard cried in pain before staggering back, pushing the other guards down. Jedediah let out a silent cry before sliding down the door, his gun out as he shot the other one on the leg. There were three guards in total. The first one was spazzing on the floor in mixed pain and shock whilst the second and third one held the uniformed man by the arms. Attila and his men howled and raised their weapons.  
  


He glanced over to his right and found Octavius leading his men with a command in Latin. Jedediah shouted at his posse before taking the gun from his holster and ran.  
  


The wax guards were holding well, but when he heard a whimper, Jedediah turned. The man in the uniform and moustache ran straight into the shipping container. He raised an eyebrow.  
  


Both the Neanderthals and Attila's men were pushing the last of the guards back before a horrendous noise tore their battle screams.  
  


Men in black tuxedos. With guns.  
  


His eyes found Sacagawea, hiding up on the crate with her bow. She must have climbed up to hide under the lights. Jedediah stared upwards and the feeling of panic rose. He frantically searched for the familiar helmet and found him slashing the guard's ankle.  
  


"Get out of here!" He shouted at Octavius and Sacagawea.  
  


Octavius widened his eyes. He cried, "We're not leaving you! We'll fight them-" But he was cut off as Jedediah pushed him into the darkness.  
  


Jedediah eyed him with a deep stare and nudged his chin over to the hidden Native American woman, "No! Get help, I'll stall for you." he encouraged him.  
  


Octavius was about to open his mouth but found Sacagawea's hand take him upwards. She gave Jedediah a nod before slipping into the rest of the warehouse. He took another breath and looked up.  
  


Staring down at him with predatory eyes was a monochromatic man, a grin on his face. "No running now, mouse," they spoke.  
  


Jedediah firmed his feet onto the ground and gritted his teeth. As he pointed his gun at them, he counted to ten in his head.  
  


He was going into the lion's den.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

One of those pinstripe-suit men picked him up in protest, no matter how many bullets he pelted at him. But as soon as the monochromatic man with fedora aimed the shotgun at him - Jedediah raised his hands in surrender.  
  


They rounded Attila and his men, the Neanderthals, his men and Octavius' and that uniform man and shoved them back into the shipping container. He thought that the man was just going to put him back with the rest, but he just kept him in his grasp. That was when he got confused until his chest grew cold when they took out a small birdcage.  
  


They laughed at him, telling them that if his friends didn't behave, they would kill him. Jedediah protested but all he heard pass the metal doors was silence - apart from the noises Dexter made scratching the metal.  
  


After that disaster, Jedediah was taken along through the museum. And Sacagawea was right; they would've gotten lost if he and Octavius and his men left. It was bigger than New York's museum entirely. It would have taken hours to find some indication of where they went.  
  


Fifteen minutes later, they arrived in a tall and open room, adorned by many statues and sculptures. On the front of the room was an odd-looking gate made of stone and gold, something that seemed Egyptian to his foreknowledge. Jedediah expected more of those Egyptian soldiers standing by, but what replaced them were a bunch of colourfully clothed people. Some men in long silvery robes with spears with axe heads; others wearing tall hats lined with fur with bayonets; and the men with rifles and suits.  
  


Jedediah kept quiet as the bar he held onto swung back and forth. His mouth then slightly faltered at what he saw.  
  


On top of a pile of gold sat the pharaoh himself.  
  


Ahkmenrah's brother sat proudly in the armchair, head up as the man carried him to him. There were jewels, coins and furniture compiled with the golden pile, giving Jedediah a sense of awe at all the treasure. How in country-blazes did that skirt-wearing douchebag find all of this?  
  


' _The archives..._ ' Jedediah answered himself with a grumble.  
  


"Hey, boss. Caught this one trying to escape with the help of those savages and cavemen." The man carrying him, who he learnt to be Al Capone, spoke. "One of his little friends got away with that Indian girl."  
  


Kahmunrah let out a laugh, pointing his finger at him. "Oh, please. What damage could they possibly do?" He grinned, "Why, he's no bigger than a little grain of couscous. Aren't you?"  
  


He stared up to the man, furrowing his eyebrows. Jedediah spoke, "You know, two words come to mind when I hear you talk. Delusional and weirdo. And if I had to say a third, "goofy". Just goofy." He inhaled from his nose and demanded, "Now you let old Jedediah out of here or he's gonna get angry!"  
  


There was a second of silence until the pharaoh spluttered out a laugh.  
  


"Well played, Jedediah! I'm sorry, I can't take you seriously. You're just adorable, even when you're threatening me. It's hilarious. Is it just me, or are these guys unbelievably cute?" He leaned his head forward and pointed at him.  
  


Instinctively, Jedediah took a step forward before realising what he stood on. He wobbled as grabbed the bar for support - hearing more laughter from the man. He snapped back, "Now hold it a second, now." Jedediah angrily said, "Now, you have a right to keep me as your captive, torture me, even, but don't call me cute! I ain't cute!"  
  


The pharaoh only fake-smiled back. His mouth opened, about to speak, until his eyes darted upwards - behind Jedediah.  
  


Hearing boots hitting the marble floor and the jingle of metal, Jedediah turned around. His heart then plummeted, as he realised who entered the room.  
  


"Gigantor. Gigantress...Ahk...No!" Jedediah shouted with a strangled voice.  
  


The three followed each other in a line, with Larry in front with Ahkmenrah and Rowen behind. Surrounding them were soldiers like the ones dotted about, their weapons unsheathed as they enveloped his friends like a wall.  
  


A bunch of questions riled inside Jedediah's head. Why didn't they just leave? By the morning, they wouldn't be in this mess and they could've taken the tablet back to New York for all he'd known.  
  


But when he saw the golden glint of the tablet resting against the hands of the short-uniformed man - he felt like he swallowed a barrel.  
  


Their heads were looking in front of them, which meant they had not spotted him just yet.  
  


As the man held onto his cage, Kahmunrah stood up from his chair (he wasn't going to call a living-room armchair a throne when someone like _him_ sat on it) and descended towards the three. Their heads turned, the first one being Ahkmenrah. Something inside Jedediah felt a twinge of fear when he saw his friend's eyes hold into a deep stare - moulded by hatred and malice.  
  


It daunted him. Perhaps they didn't know their mummy friend that well enough.  
  


Kahmunrah approached them, standing a couple of metres as the trio stood in a line in front of him - soldiers still stationed next to them. He grinned at them as he spoke: "Hello, Mr Daley, Little brother and... his whore. Nice to see you again." The pharaoh's eyes then diverted to the short man, who stepped forward.  
  


The short man muttered something in another language (was it Italian? German? He didn't know) back to Kahmunrah before glancing at Rowen, Larry and Ahkmenrah with a quick snort. It must have been bad as he spotted his curator friend clench her hands into fists before getting a nudge by Ahkmenrah. Rowen looked at Kahmunrah, unafraid.  
  


' _That's our girl_ ,' Jedediah praised her internally.  
  


Kahmunrah raised an eyebrow, before taking Ahkmenrah's tablet into his hands. "Merci, Napoleon. Such gratitude in retrieving _my_ tablet." He said before turning around with his heels and sauntered over to the Egyptian gate.  
  


To Jedediah's surprise, Ahkmenrah shook from his place and tried to push through, but as his arm pulled out, the soldier yanked him back as he burst out, "Stop it! You don't understand!" He panted, "You don't know what you're doing!"  
  


Advancing towards the gate-like structure, the pharaoh placed Ahkmenrah's tablet into the slot - perfectly fitting into it. Jedediah was surprised that it would do so; he never thought of the Tablet as anything other than the object which brought things back to life but now it seemed it did more than just that. The man pressed the slots in a pattern.  
  


"Finally!" He loudly proclaimed, "After four-thousand years, my evil army of the damned...my beautiful...beautiful army - shall be _unleashed_!"  
  


Kahmunrah stepped backwards and gestured his hands at the gate.  
  


Nothing happened.  
  


Was something supposed to happen?  
  


The pharaoh tapped his chin before humming, "I'm afraid that they've changed the combination since my father's accession."  
  


"No shit, Sherlock." Rowen rolled her eyes as she commented. It took all his will not to snort.  
  


"I guess this whole unleashing-the-underworld thing isn't really working out for you, huh?" Larry sniggered with a retort. "It must be really frustrating, cause you've waited _thousands of years_ to come back from the dead and everything, and now you can't get it open."  
  


Spinning around, Kahmunrah narrowed his eyes at the nigh guard. He answered, "Fear not, for I shall wait for a thousand more if I must."  
  


Larry whistled and shifted his feet as he answered, "Good, 'cause in a few hours you'll be standing here in a frustrating position, frozen, and we'll walk out of here with my buddies and that'll be that."  
  


Jedediah was stunned.  
  


"Larry!"  
  


Rowen snapped and gave a disapproving expression. Meanwhile, Ahkmenrah's face shared the same, gawking as their heads turned to their former night guard.  
  


"So, we've got all night."  
  


Ahkmenrah face-palmed and groaned, "Oh for _Ra_ 's sake-"  
  


"Really? All night?" Kahmunrah drawled, a smirk forming as he gestured to his direction, "Well...He doesn't."  
  


The pharaoh stepped aside and staring back at him were his three friends.  
  


"Jed..."  
  


"Open that cage." The pharaoh called out and walked over to him and the man carrying him.  
  


Larry stammered, "What are you doing?"  
  


"No touching! No touching!" Jedediah yelled as he was grabbed by the man's sweaty hands. He flailed his entire body, trying to jab and punch but to no avail. "Don't you manhandle me!"  
  


He heard Rowen cry in a plea, "Let go of him!"  
  


"Look, he's having a little tantrum." Kahmunrah's voice rung in his ears as he continued to fight through his fingers.  
  


No matter what, Jedediah would not give up. He would scream and fight until his muscles ached.  
  


"Put him down, pretender!" Ahkmenrah demanded, a threat in his tone.  
  


However, the last part of their voices muffled as all he heard was his screams as Kahmunrah pried his fingers. He looked down and staggered, his feet landing onto the glass. Panic began to rise in him, and he quickly clambered up the tight walls of the glass. But as soon his hand grasped the wall, the top of the opening shut.  
  


In one swift movement, the casing he was put in: revolved. Jedediah widened his eyes as he clung onto the walls as Kahmunrah turned the cage upside-down. He groaned, pain soaring up his back as he landed on his back in a thud.  
  


Jedediah took a second to recollect his breath and felt something hit his head. When he gazed upwards, he noticed a grain of yellow fall. More and more fell and the sudden realisation made his pulse quicken.  
  


He was in an hourglass.  
  


"I lied. I don't think he has all night at all, Mr Daley." Kahmunrah spoke, amused at the spectre. "From the looks of things, I'd say he has a little over an hour."  
  


Running back towards the glass, he punched it multiple times - kicking it in last resort. But to no avail: it didn't leave a scratch. He stared with a panic expression, his breath growing erratic. He had to calm down, he needed to think. ' _Focus Jedediah! Focus!_ ' He told himself.  
  


His body relaxed slightly, counting to himself up to ten until he could look without screaming at the douchebag that put him in. He felt the man holding the hourglass adjust his hands, shaking more sand into his half.  
  


Whilst he stood still, Kahmunrah returned in front of his brother, look straight forward as he questioned, "Now, little brother, tell me. Did _he_ tell you?"  
  


"No."  
  


A flash of annoyance appeared in the pharaoh's face. "Don't lie, Ahkmenrah. I know you do. You know _he_ changed it."  
  


"I don't know-" Suddenly, Ahkmenrah gasped as a fist came right at his gut.  
  


Jedediah breathed as he heard the agonizing wail while the air was knocked out of Ahkmenrah's lungs. The mummy stumbled back and fell onto the hard floor. His hands quickly flew over his stomach, curling up into a ball. However, his brother didn't stop; he kicked Ahkmenrah once more - luckily parried by the fallen mummy's arm.  
  


"Stop it!" Rowen snarled.  
  


Gone was the polite and sophisticated woman Jedediah knew. Standing several metres from him was a woman that was highly protective to those she loved. He knew people like her if he could remember his past life, and mothers from his town usually acted this way to their own family.  
  


"Please." She said more quietly, gritting her teeth.  
  


Kahmunrah pulled him back up by the collar and spat back at Ahkmenrah's face. "Tell me the code!"  
  


Glowering back, Ahkmenrah replied: "I. Don't. Know!" He sharply responded, "And even if I did: I would destroy _his_ tablet before you could open it!"  
  


He drawled out the specific word to which his ears perked up. Jedediah furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What did he mean _his_ tablet? He could have sworn the tablet was made for Ahkmenrah and no one else.  
  


There was a silent battle between the two, as Kahmunrah peered back. Despite their frozen position, Jedediah saw how Ahkmenrah refrained his movements. He wondered if his mummified friend could truly best the man in a fair fight. But from his perspective, Jedediah knew that Ahkmenrah was truly pulling back his power.  
  


He decided to take note of this.  
  


Quickly, Kahmunrah let go of Ahkmenrah's collar and turned his head over to the side. "Alright then, have it your way."  
  


With a quick swipe, the pharaoh commanded the soldiers to grab Rowen.  
  


Larry cried out, "Hey! Put her down!"  
  


"Get off me!" Before she could fight back, Rowen was hauled up by her arms by the soldiers.  
  


Jedediah tried to push the glass with all his might, shoving his shoulder so it would crack. But that only made the glass reverberate, pushing him back under the falling sand. He yelled out, "Gigantress!"  
  


They dragged her forwards, close to Kahmunrah. He studied her face, having to tilt his chin down with a glint in his eyes. For a moment, Rowena turned away but was forced to put her hands behind her back. One of the men in silver robes walked over, a silver object in their hands. As Rowen struggled, he heard the familiar click of handcuffs lock in place.  
  


Kahmunrah's fingers moved her chin as he spoke to her, "Not so tongue witted now, whore. Or should I say... my queen?"  
  


Jedediah let out a nasty snarl and protested. But he could not match the younger-looking pharaoh's horror.  
  


As he held far from Rowen, Ahkmenrah barked: "You will not touch her, pretender!"  
  


Rowen continued to squirm in her place, a dark and dangerous expression at the dress-wearing douchebag. But she kept quiet, standing idly by the short uniform man.  
  


Kahmunrah walked back to the tablet and pried it off and shoved it into Larry's chest. "You were the guardian! You may or may not know the combination, but I am going to give you exactly _one hour_ to figure it out." He declared, "If you do not, I shall kill your friends. And please don't think about escaping, for I shall be watching you."  
  


Larry answered back, "Look, I don't even know how to begin to decipher this thing, all right!"  
  


He let out a laugh. "Really. What a pity. Your little cowboy friend seemed like such a charming little fellow." He looked his way to Ahkmenrah, "As for you, _little brother_ , I will have you run around as I acquaint myself to my new queen. Or would you prefer dying in front of her out of my hand?"  
  


"Khaf-" Ahkmenrah was about to speak until Rowen interrupted him.  
  


She looked over to Jedediah, knowing that they didn't have any choice in this matter. "Ahk, Larry." Rowen calmly spoke, "You've both got this. We'll be fine."  
  


The pharaoh gestured for the soldiers to let go of them. Ahkmenrah relaxed from his restraints and glared back at his brother before staring at Rowen.  
  


Jedediah sighed. Emotion seemed to get the worse out of them. Kahmunrah knew easily that both his friends cared for each other - and they fell for his trick.  
  


He didn't notice that Larry had been looking at him, an apologetic expression on his face.  
  


Despite everything that has happened, something in Jedediah made him shout back: "Yeah, you got this Gigantor, Ahkmenrah!"  
  


The two nodded and turned away, walking out of the exhibit before changing into a run. One hour. Jedediah swallowed the bile rising from his throat. He just had to have faith in the night guard and mummy that they would crack the code.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XXI  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

Acting as leverage was not on her agenda for tonight.  
  


It had been fifteen minutes since Larry and Ahkmenrah were forced to run amuck the museum to find some code for the fake Kahmunrah (which she still called _wax dickwad_ in her head). During that time, she was forced to sit still by what seemed to be Fake Kahmunrah's throne on top of a pile of artefacts. Artefacts that were highly fragile _and_ rare.  
  


Rowena mentally winced at each jewel and coin was being trampled on by him, as he stepped down to speak with Napoleon, Al Capone and Ivan (who didn't appear as terrible as the history books said). She knew they were arguing, something on the lines of who was going to take each continent to rule over once they get their underworld army.  
  


She wanted to scoff at the men. She's lived through two-hundred years of the same people, same leaders who sought out what they thought what was best for them. All it led to these leaders was retaliation and death. Hence why she's gone against an Austrian man leading Germany during the mid-twentieth century. Now he was dead, and his power stripped off.  
  


The torture devices around her wrists didn't help her stress at all. Once she began moving her hands, she realised how they tightened every time. Rowena gave up trying to pick it once she heard her cowboy friend whistle a tune.  
  


She then cut the silence with a murmur, "Jed."  
  


Pausing his whistle, he looked up from his bed of sand and asked, "What is it, Gigantress?"  
  


Letting out a ragged breath, she gazed at him. "I'm so sorry." She confessed, "All of this...If I hadn't been away-"  
  


"Oh, don't be like that. You did your best." Jedediah shook his head and placed the palm of his hand onto the glass - reaching out for her.  
  


With a strangled voice, she whispered. "But I've rarely seen you now these past years-"  
  


"And you've been working so hard to make sure _our_ home was still running." Jedediah sighed and rubbed his temple. "Look. I shouldn't have been harsh on you and Gigantor. But all those fancy suits don't suit him; your kind and carefree voice aren't you at all! You're all fancy and chic with your fancy heels and lipstick. Not some errand girl."  
  


Rowena swallowed the imaginary object down her throat, stopping herself gasping for her breath.  
  


It had been months since she has thought of this, knowing her time with the museum will be over for her once her visa ran out and she was needed at her museum. But whenever the subject came by, all she did was ignore it - telling herself that she would tell them at another date.  
  


She didn't realise how much it affected the exhibits. Larry's departure already took a toll on them a year ago, how would they react if she told them she needed to go as well? How would Ahkmenrah react after leaving him again?  
  


Jedediah wiped the sand off his hat and continued: "I want you to be happy. For _you_ to be happy with what you're doing. Even if it meant not being able to see you again. To not be awake or alive...it's fine by me."  
  


"Jed, really..." Glancing away, she murmured his name. Her eyes wandered over to the gate and the crowded men.  
  


"You've got so much responsibility now; working with kids and working with other museums." He remarked, "You don't even own this one, but here you are! Helping McPhee out-"  
  


She stared at him in with a startled look.  
  


Wait. How did he-  
  


"I…never told you about that?" Rowena creased her brow.  
  


A nervous laugh escaped his lips as Jedediah slowly spoke with a high pitch voice, "Right...uh, you see." He twiddled his thumbs over the sand. "I... kinda snuck into your office."  
  


Her eyes twitched slightly.  
  


"You did what?" Rowena gaped at him. She made sure her office was locked securely every night, taking her keys with her and hiding it before anyone would take it. Most of the reason had been for Dexter's hand, who always had a way with snatching things off them (hence their current situation). But for Jedediah to sneak into her office to snoop was unexpected.  
  


A feeling of anger was in the pit of her mind. Rowena felt a bit betrayed when Jedediah confessed, though it dwindled down when she told herself that perhaps the cowboy had reasons for getting into her own personal belongings. Despite being the curator and a dear friend to the exhibits, she was still secretive in her personal life outside work and the museum. Perhaps curiosity killed the cat, some would say.  
  


Counting to ten, Rowena sighed and shut her eyes. "Jed. What did you see?" she asked.  
  


"When were you going to tell us?"  
  


She opened her eyes to find his own ones; a look of similar betrayal in Jedediah.  
  


Opening her mouth, Rowena began to answer, "Look...I was going to tell you before you leave-"  
  


"Now!"  
  


The sound of murmurs and shuffling feet, Rowena cut off her sentence as she gave Jedediah a look, indicating to him that she would explain once they were free. The cowboy nodded in agreement before they faced the fake pharaoh going up the mound of gold. She noticed that everyone had left, apart from several mafia men and Napoleon's soldiers stationed around the perimeter.  
  


She stood up from her spot, staring at his eyes with a dead look. His dark ones piercing hers like a hawk. She felt something on the back of her mind as if it were trying to pry through, but Rowena ignored it.  
  


Fake Kahmunrah stood close to her, analysing her body. "My queen should befit the role of a ruler. Of course, I will be ruling." His eyes found hers once more as he said, "You will be _my_ goddess."  
  


She wanted to scoff.  
  


"I am no one's goddess, thank you very much." Rowena answered nonchalantly, "And I'm fine with what I wear."  
  


The Fake Kahmunrah scoffed and looked at her clothes in displeasure. "And what is that? Rags? Preposterous! I will shower you in gold, the colour for the wife of a god!”  
  


She looked at him darkly and said strongly: "You are _no_ god." Rowena continued, "The gods chose who the rightful kings are...and you are neither."  
  


The pretender's darkened at that comment and Rowena gulped down the regret of her counterargument. He spoke, "It appears you have a tongue; it would be a shame to remove it as such...especially before our wedding."  
  


"She ain't marrying you! The only one she'll be marrying is the king!"  
  


He clamped his mouth shut and slowly turned to Jedediah's direction. Rowena mentally told herself to stay calm, counting again in various languages.  
  


Kahmunrah gave a fake smile and questioned, "And who may that be couscous?"  
  


"Ahkmenrah of course!"  
  


She flicked her face towards Jedediah's voice.  
  


Her friend argued back, "Why they've known each other for so long: I don't even see why they haven't kissed-agh!"  
  


Kicking the hourglass gently with her the ball of the foot, Jedediah yelped before she heard a thud.  
  


Rowena muttered under gritted teeth, "Shut up, Jed." She shut her eyes and sighed audibly, sending a quick apology to the cowboy. Jedediah assured her that he was alright, saying that he just had some sand in his mouth.  
  


Meanwhile, the Fake Kahmunrah said, "My...my...Not just a whore." He grinned, "Little Ahkmenrah has fallen in love."  
  


On the outside, she continued to look forward at the man - not reacting at all at what he just said. Though on the inside: her heart was beating so fast that she swore everyone in the room could hear it. Her mind clouded on a million thoughts, with the same phrase echoing inside her until it rang like a bell. Her stomach churned, a mixture of discomfort and hunger as she swallowed the bile down her throat.  
  


' _He's lying to you,_ ' She repeated to herself. ' _He's only trying to find your weakness. He wants to destroy Ahkmenrah and Larry utilizing you. Ahk doesn't love you._ '  
  


The last sentence made pierced her heart.  
  


Another part of her mind argued back, ' _No! He does love you! Why would he have chosen to make sure you've been alright for the past two and a half years? Why did he take more time with you than the rest?_ '  
  


' _Then why haven't you told him that you're leaving him again next year?_ ' The other part of her mind asked, imagining a smirk by the hint of their voice.  
  


"He doesn't love me." Rowena thickly said, maintaining (and slightly faltering) her calm demeanour. "We're just friends."  
  


Facing away from him, she inhaled sharply.  
  


She wasn't seeing things: or she would be seeing five familiar figures running across the Smithsonian grounds with the tablet in their hands.  
  


One of them being their Egyptian friend in their talk of the subject.  
  


' _Where the bloody heck are they going?_ ' Rowena widened her eyes as she thought.  
  


However, the voice next to her seemed too focused on what she said. "He's taught her to lie as well." He remarked, giving an impressed tone. "Tell me: how do you feel when he touches you? Does he gaze upon your eyes like a hawk, I presume? Or does he cower and hide like the mouse he is. Are you even listening-"  
  


He cut off his own words. She glanced over and saw his eyes bulge outwards.  
  


The fake pharaoh stepped closer and peered through and growled.  
  


"No, they are getting away! Get them!"  
  


He pointed out towards the window, shouting instructions to the soldiers and mafia. Once some of them ran out of the exhibit, Rowena bit her lip to prevent herself from smirking.  
  


It would seem that they have a plan, and obviously, they needed to go to the other museums to decipher it. She wasn't surprised that the wax dickwad had no understanding of their motives, only wishing to get the Tablet back.  
  


She glanced over to Jedediah, whose eyes were filled with hope and relief. Sending a similar expression to the cowboy, she smiled slightly back before hiding it with a plain look.  
  


The pretender stomped towards her, his face inches from hers as he leaned down. "Now you, you will behave and stand quietly next to me. I do not know what your friends and my brother are up to, but I will capture them, and you will watch them die." He murmured at her, "Wouldn't you love that? Watch the 'caring and brave' Ahkmenrah die in front of his lover.”  
  


Rowena continued to be silent.  
  


And still, Fake Kahmunrah continued taunting her. “He’s already seen so many of his loved ones die for him.” He told her. “Merenkahre, Shepseheret… It would be rather poetic just to finish the song with your death.”  
  


“And you speak of your parents as if you don’t know them.” She argued.  
  


The pretender’s eyes darkened and he quickly snarled, “That is because all they cared about was little Ahkmenrah. Sweet, _perfect_ Ahkmenrah.” He spat back. “Even _my_ father didn’t look at me the way a father should look at his son. Do you know who he looked up to? _Him_. Ahkmenrah. Despite being the second son, my father considered him more than me.”  
  


Her hatred paused and curiosity got to her. What did he mean? ‘ _Their family must have been close to having this feud…_ ’  
  


“He has taken what I deserved.” Fake Kahmunrah hissed back. “So I will take the most precious thing he has from his own hands.”  
  


Biting her tongue, she urged herself not to spit back. Her emotions spiralled into a haze, mixing in desperation and anger at the man. A voice in her head kept telling her to snap back, to tell the fake pharaoh that he would have to kill her permanently before he could lay a finger on Ahkmenrah.  
  


But in her heart, Rowena wanted to burst into tears. She felt the pendant on her neck grow hotter as he got closer, but she refrained from wincing. No matter what, she would never give away the presence of the pendant.  
  


"Even if he felt something of me...I wouldn't know. It can never happen." She lied, remaining calm throughout but still realistic.  
  


There was a change in Fake Kahmunrah's eyes as he stared down at her.  
  


For a second, she saw a glitter of red around his irises. It must have been the light. No one’s eyes should be that red.  
  


His first words answering back were this: "First lesson as queen, _Rowena Elizabeth Clarke_ : do not lie to your king."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does fake-Kahmunrah know?? Let me know your thoughts on this.
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Tidying some things in part 2 before tackling all of parts 3 and 4.


	24. Finding the Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry and Ahkmenrah return to Amelia and Howard and they find two of their friends. As they discuss how to find a way to solve the code, Larry and Amelia share some mix signals with a bunch of flying cupids. 
> 
> Ahkmenrah and Howard talk about Rowen, with Ahkmenrah growing slightly jealous of Howard's closeness. As for Rowena: we return to the cliffhanger that we left her in and the fake pharaoh gives her a choice that may sway her into power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back to Audere est Facere. It's been almost a week since I left you guys on that cliffhanger as well as that huge muck up with my updates. Don't worry, I will make sure it doesn't happen again.
> 
> I think at this moment of time, the story is got to do with Rowena and her past. I changed some of the storylines so we've got Sacagawea and Octavius joining our team to find the combination. I've got nothing to say really but just to thank you for reading and for the kudos. The support of this just means a lot to me.
> 
> Also just a little shout out to a friend that is reading this to wish both our friend a happy birthday (something to make her laugh and a little memory for the future).
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy :)

** Larry XVIII  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

"There you are!"  
  


On the other side of the corridor: Amelia raced forwards with a perturbed look. She began throwing questions at them, "Are you all right? I've been worried sick! Sick I tell you."  
  


He could feel Ahkmenrah's gaze over him, and he ignored the raised eyebrow at him.  
  


Behind her, Howard jogged up to them, appearing to look weathered down by Amelia's impressive stamina. He wondered how the pilot could be energetic at a time like this, after constant incoming of soldiers, paintings and fake pharaohs. Larry felt remorse at the archaeologist as he halted beside Amelia.  
  


As for him, after running out of The Castle Museum, the first thing Larry did was a search for an emergency first aid kit. Forcing Ahkmenrah on the nearby bench, he checked to see if his torso wasn't bruised after getting kicked by the fake pharaoh. Had Larry had the way with the pharaoh, he would have punched the guy’s nuts soon enough.  
  


Instead, he had to watch Ahkmenrah curl up into a ball. He knew that it would start turning a shade of purple after a few hours, so the best way was to just leave it be. His friend agreed rather quickly, uncomfortable to Larry's concern but kept silent throughout the whole thing.  
  


Now they were here, after searching around the gallery to see if Amelia and Howard stayed.  
  


"No, I'm fine." Larry waved it off and glanced over to the pharaoh. "Ahk's just a bit beaten down."  
  


Ahkmenrah replied, slightly offended by Larry's belittlement. "I'm fine." Larry did not seem convinced when the pharaoh’s hand went back over his stomach, rubbing it gently.  
  


They changed the subject next as Amelia piped aloud: "So what's our next move, men?"  
  


Howard made a noise, making Larry turn to him as he questioned them, "Where's Emilia?"  
  


"Rowen...she's-"  
  


Ahkmenrah cut him off, voice dripping in resentment. "The pretender has taken her. He wants us to decode the Tablet or else they'll kill our friends." He grunted as he stretched his arms out, giving the tablet to him. "Considering how he throws a punch; it'll take quite a while to kill all of us..."  
  


Letting out a snort, Larry imagined the fake pharaoh trying his best to punch a twenty-foot tall tyrannosaurus rex. Rexy would probably pick the fake-Kahmunrah like a rag doll much like the giant octopus down in the Archives.  
  


That would be a sight to see.  
  


"Right...That's something she would put herself into." Howard muttered, rolling his eyes. He placed his hands over his hips and asked, "What does he want us to decode it for? To unlock the gate you spoke of, right?"  
  


Larry hummed in agreement and passed the tablet back to its guardian. He then asked the young pharaoh, "Yeah. Ahk? Can you read it?"  
  


Holding it at his front, they waited quietly for him to think. It wasn't long though before Ahkmenrah muttered a couple of words and furrowed his eyebrows. He let out an exasperated sigh, "It says to find the answer in the heart of the pharaoh's tomb. But it's hardly anything specific." He paused. "Someone must know how to un-crack codes."  
  


There was an atmosphere of agreement, letting Larry remark, "You're right, we've got to go find someone."  
  


A few minutes of thinking, the four somehow concurred to try manoeuvre out of the gallery museum after discovering most of the statues hardly having any idea of the riddle imprinted on the gold tablet. The realisation from Nick and Rowen's information on how large the Smithsonian had daunted him. How were they going to find someone in nineteen museums to solve this riddle?  
  


He gulped down the worried feeling, knowing that they had less than an hour to try and decode a four-thousand-year-old tablet, save their friends, save Rowen being harassed by the dickwad and save Jedediah from drowning in sand. Then there was the obvious accelerating discomfort in his chest whenever he sensed the presence of pilot.  
  


' _I really should consider my life decisions_ ,' Larry groaned to himself. Another part of his head argued back, ' _Because Daley: they are your friends. Your family for god's sake. And no matter how much they hate you for leaving, you're going to save them goddammit...'  
  
  
_

**~oOo~  
  
  
**

They exited the inner gallery and sauntered down the corridor at a fast pace. He could only be thankful for the fake pharaoh as they somehow felt free despite the time ticking rather quickly. Or in their case - sand falling.  
  


' _Okay, let's not think about Jed drowning in sand and Rowen being forced into marriage._ ' He reassured himself. ' _You've got this Daley. You just need to find someone to decode this fricking tablet._ ' He repeated the things they needed to due in under an hour whilst they walked.  
  


Just as they rounded the corner, they heard a small cry of his name. Larry immediately spun around, and his heart warmed.  
  


"Saca! Octavius! How did you guys get out?" Larry exclaimed, his eye lighting up. Though his eyebrows creased into confusion. "How did the two manage to escape the Archives with all of the pharaoh's allies guarding the place?"  
  


Standing in their path was Sacagawea, her hands holding her bow. She held a face of relief, a grin forming on her lips. Ahkmenrah couldn't help but walk up to their friend and embrace her. Next, Larry pulled her into a quick hug: eyeing the small figurine in Sacagawea's pouch. Sitting inside was Octavius - another expression of relief on him.  
  


"Your brother's guards brought another exhibit in. We tried to fight them, however, we lost many." The general explained alongside a frown. "Sacagawea and I were the only ones that could run before their backup arrived."  
  


From the tone of Octavius and Sacagawea's constant looking, it seemed that it was an unexpected chance for the two to escape. Larry gulped and remembered that the other exhibits were still in the shipping container.  
  


“ _I will kill your friends_ ,” The Fake-Kahmunrah's voice echoed in his head, giving him a headache. Even his voice was irritating. ' _Man, how do people get along with him?_ ' Larry thought before he answered back: "Yeah, we know. We ran into them as well."  
  


Octavius' face morphed into a look of agitation, leaning out of Sacagawea's pouch. He asked him: "What happened to Jedediah, Larry?"  
  


His head immediately turned to Ahkmenrah, who also masked an apologetic look. Heart beating like a drum, Larry rubbed his fingers against his palms. He then let out an exhale. "I'm sorry, he got captured." He paused and slowly added, "I... _might_ have turned him into a hostage by mistake."  
  


Larry heard a small gasp and he winced.  
  


"No... We have to save him!" Octavius exclaimed.  
  


"Rowen too. Which means we've to find this code for that guy before the hour's gone. Ahk? Howard? Any ideas popping?" Larry pointed out and glanced over to two men to his left.  
  


Ahkmenrah shook his head, shifting the tablet in his arm. "I'm afraid none, Larry."  
  


"You: telling us that this isn't _your_ tablet changes the whole spectrum. Do you know at least anything how it was made? Or like...why it was made?"  
  


The young king exhaled and explained, "My brother had it made on the day of his birth. On the top of the pyramid to which he was planned to be buried in."  
  


"Planned? What happened?"  
  


Sacagawea was the one who asked, her soft tone soothing Larry's growing nerves. He thanked the woman for her presence sometimes; she helped keep everything running smoothly and perhaps less chaotic than needed to be.  
  


"The pretender did. His father specifically," Ahkmenrah said plainly, staring directly at the Native American woman. "Took my father's work. My _family's_ work." There was a bitter tone at the end of his sentence.  
  


"I'm confused." Octavius looked at them with a raised eyebrow. It seemed that Sacagawea was the only one who had caught up. Ahkmenrah looked to be glad that their friend knew easily what a lie was and what was the truth.  
  


Unfortunately, Larry had to explain quickly to his miniature friend: "Turns out that the pharaoh you've been calling Kahmunrah isn't Ahk's brother. He's pretending to be Kahmunrah."  
  


Ahkmenrah nodded. "I should have clarified with you all on the first night here." He shrugged. "Though, it seems he's been declaring himself as my brother to every person he meets. Even when it's not necessary - other than the Tablet's usage."  
  


"What makes your brother's name important?" Howard inquired. "Apart from the Tablet."  
  


Ahkmenrah crossed eyes with the archaeologist and simply spoke back with a singular word: "Jealousy."  
  


Everyone's brows raised in acknowledgement. He now understood the feud. The fake pharaoh was jealous of the real Kahmunrah. And this Kahmunrah must be bigger than what they all thought.  
  


‘ _I wonder why he can’t mention his brother?_ ’ Larry thought. ‘ _But probably ask about it when we’re not stuck for time._ ’  
  


"I'm sorry," Sacagawea responded softly. Genuine honesty filled her tone. "About him stealing your family's work."  
  


Larry quirked a small smile at the woman. She always looked out for them, always wondering if they were alright every night and if they needed to talk. When Sacagawea was not taking night walks with Teddy or with discussing her life with Rebecca: The Native American woman always confided with the exhibits. There was a motherly air around her which their family needed.  
  


That was why he expected Sacagawea put Ahkmenrah's emotional comfort first. He knew the two got along well after the night three years ago. She treated Ahkmenrah like a brother and vice versa.  
  


Larry saw the pharaoh's eyes calm down as he replied, "Thank you," Ahkmenrah gestured to the artefact. "No matter. That is why the tablet was handed to me - for the enemy to not have it when uh...when my brother is not here."  
  


With another confused expression, Larry pointed out, "But you knew how to work it three years ago?"  
  


"Only a few spells. I wasn't the priest of Memphis in my spare time." He rolled his eyes and then eyed the archaeologist with curiosity. "Anyways, I assume you know what it's like, to be a friend of the Wadjet key, Mr Carter?"  
  


It took Larry several seconds to process what Ahkmenrah was talking about. Then he remembered about Rowen's pendant, which he usually called the golden coin - or gold pendant. Never had Ahkmenrah nor Rowen mentioned it being a key until now. Did Rowen even know its uses? He guessed that he might be learning more things about his two immortal friends once more.  
  


All eyes turned to the archaeologist.  
  


Larry assured him, "You can trust us, she told us about her...issue."  
  


"Told you what?" Amelia asked, clearly out of the information the rest of them knew of their curator.  
  


Apart from the pilot, he knew everyone gave each other a speculating look. Could they trust her knowing? The next thing Larry did was studied Ahkmenrah's reaction, who nodded back. Larry blew out air and nodded back. Sacagawea simply stayed silent but kept an eye on Amelia warily.   
  


"She was assaulted before." Howard began with a sigh. "During our time in Egypt several bandits, or so we thought, came for the pendant. I hadn't known at that time the truth, but she did reveal the truth as to the reason she was being hunted. Luckily, we were there to keep her from further harm - or the pendant being stolen."  
  


"We?"  
  


"Robert and I... your grandfather, Larry Daley." Howard nodded at him.

  
Larry blinked. He was not sure as to why it took him a while to connect the dots. His first impressions of Howard Carter were rather vague and quick (courtesy of Egyptian guards wanting to spear them to death). He only knew from his family's side that his grandfather was close friends with the archaeologist and from Rowen: knew him as the man that was close friends with her previous name.

  
The moment he saw Rowen and Howard reunite; he saw his friend crack her outer shell. Or perhaps put an old shell on.

  
Never had he saw someone affected her as much anyone other than Ahkmenrah himself. Larry wasn’t so sure if he was seeing Emilia Darcy or Rowen Bates; it almost felt like a blend between the two of them ever since the two were together. He wondered if living for a long time meant there were phases in her life that whenever she changed her name, she would change her own image and personality. That it would help her blend with society around her.  
  


But an awkward tension rose between Ahkmenrah, Howard and Rowen as they got up the staircase a few hours before. Speaking of Ahkmenrah, Larry was impressed by how the pharaoh was keeping composed. Though he could tell by the clenching of Ahkmenrah's fingers against the tablet that his friend was not finding Rowen's closeness with Howard well.  
  


Jealousy was a messy thing to resolve, and Larry already predicted his own demise growing by the elephant in the room.

  
Larry then remarked, "Ah, right..."

  
"Well, you're certainly an Einstein." Amelia drawled. Her eyes averted to his, letting the blueness of them draw him into a smile as well.

  
At that moment, a thought popped up in Larry's head. He spoke, "Hey, I remember those bobbleheads. They might know."

  
"Where is that exactly?" The pilot questioned.

  
Though before he could answer, he already began striding down the corridor, brushing pass the tall fern plant by the window. He leaned over and peered his eyes outside. Over across the open plan walkways and paths was another building.

  
The Air and Space Museum stood opposite to where they were. In his head, Larry reminded himself of the layout from this morning. That was where he asked the lady how he could get into the Archives. But whilst he exited the museum, he observed some of the exhibits laid out before getting a call from Rowen.

  
"Over there, in Air and Space. We've got to get over there." Larry glanced over his shoulder. He almost jumped had he not paused to breathe. Amelia tilted her head up at him, her face almost inches from his face. Blue eyes sparkling under the dim light. He swallowed the saliva as he asked. "What?"

  
Eyes twinkling, She parted her mouth and breathed, "Nothing."

  
"Okay. Then why are you staring at me?" He eyed her curiously.

  
"I don't wanna miss a moment." She whispered.

  
Nodding slowly, Larry awkwardly replied. He placed his hands over her arms, patting them slowly. "All right, good, but we should get going, 'cause we...Why?" He cut himself off, now alarmed at her long stare.

  
Amelia answered boldly, "You talk too much, ace."

  
Then her lips crashed into his.

  
He felt himself stumble back, holding against the windowsill with his hands - rather loosely. His head was spinning, a mixture of shock, confusion and perhaps an ounce of fear. A feeling is his chest tightened and soon he could feel a mixture of feelings swirl as his thoughts moved to a figure in his mind.

  
Brown eyes formed in front of him instead of Amelia's blue ones.

  
Suddenly, he panicked.

  
It almost felt like ages until Larry took a gasp of air once his lips felt empty. He blinked back and froze when he stared back. His face was almost as hot as an oven. He did not want to know how red he appeared.

  
This was not what he expected.

  
Amelia's similar widened eyes looked back at his. "I don't know why I did that, Mr Daley." She breathed. "I just feel as if I've been asleep for a long time and now, suddenly, I'm awake."

  
He stammered back, "I can explain that...But really, I could. I really..." Okay, how was he supposed to tell her this softly?

  
' _Hey, sorry but I don't really think of you like that. Even if you're quite cute. But-_ ' Larry cursed himself. ' _You just got kissed by Amelia Earhart. You just got kiss-_ ' His thoughts were disrupted by the growing sound of harps.

  
" _Near...far...wherever you are..._ "

  
Glancing upwards, Larry groaned audibly. Flying right above them were the porcelain cupids they saw on the way out of the gallery. The three flying exhibits continued singing the familiar tune - something along the lines of a famous movie about a boat.

  
Larry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, why? Great, you're back." He exasperated. "Okay. Yeah. Great. Love Theme from _Titanic_. Good, but not really appropriate."

  
" _I believe that the heart does go on..._ "

  
The soft tone rang in his ears once more, and he spotted her quirk a smile. "You don't let yourself enjoy things much, do you, Mr Daley?" Amelia inquired.

  
His face continued to warm up as he ignored everyone but the cupids. "Okay, you know what? It's not really the song choice. And by the way, you're a little pitchy." He glared up at the flying statues, who simply carried on humming.

  
"Well, I thought you were amazing," Amelia praised the statue, who bowed at them.

  
To Larry's gratitude, they flew off after they finished and got both Amelia heading off at the front. He sighed to himself and found the palm of his hand hit his face. Then he realised from the view between his fingers that he wasn't alone.

  
Standing around him were Ahkmenrah, Sacagawea and Octavius. Howard already moved towards Amelia - probably not wanting to hear anything that just happened.

  
He turned to them and snapped back, "Don't give me that look, the three of you."

  
Octavius replied nonchalantly, "We're not the ones _enjoying the moment_ with you, Larry."

  
He saw the raised eyebrow from Sacagawea, and the innocent gaze Ahkmenrah gave him. Larry narrowed his eyes and pointed at them. "Tell anyone what happened." He hissed.

  
Ahkmenrah fluttered his eyes and answered in an innocent tone. "We make no promises. Guardian of Brooklyn."

  
All he could do was grumble to himself and stalked back up to the other two.   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah IV  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

Forty minutes left: that was what Larry said.  
  


Leaving the Gallery Museum and out into the wide-open plan of the Smithsonian energised him in a way. Excitement mixed with the pressure of stress made him run faster than he expected. He could only thank Rowen again for the change of clothes.  
  


The Smithsonian was nothing like the museum he expected, mostly reminding him of the university he lived. There were multiple buildings scattered around, with grassy paths connecting the places. Just as they were halfway to the Air and Space Museum, he heard jangling metal and angry mutterings.  
  


He glanced to where the noise came from and widened his eyes. Pulling Sacagawea back with his arm, the other four noticed what he meant. Their backs quickly hit the hard-plastic advertisement post. He gave Sacagawea an apologetic smile, glad to see her return the gesture.  
  


"It so seems we're jimmy jacked," Larry mumbled under his lips, leaning back after he inspected their path.  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced at the former night guard and whispered, "What are we going to do?"  
  


There were several looks at each other, mostly eyeing both him and Larry. Though instead, someone piped up: "Larry, Amelia, Octavius. You know where the Einsteins are. Take the tablet and find the code." Howard discussed, gesturing at himself, Sacagawea and him.  
  


The first thought that popped up was a slight annoyance and his arms curling tighter around the tablet. ' _Who said you were the leader?_ ' Ahkmenrah mentally sniffed his nose. As much as he was supposed to be a mature and poise leader, he could not help but be a bit petty in such things.  
  


However, his logic beat against his emotions. He knew the pretender would be searching for him and the tablet. Splitting up would potentially give Larry and Amelia some chance and go to the Einsteins to decipher it.  
  


As well as that, he must admit the rest did not run as fast as he expected.  
  


Larry simply nodded. He asked, "What about you, Sac and Howard?"  
  


Explaining, the archaeologist thumbed the other direction. Away from their destination. "Ahkmenrah, Sacagawea and I will give them a run for their money. We'll lead them somewhere else and then we'll head back down to the Archives."  
  


Howard's eye darted to his, trying to find some approval from him. With a slow nod, Ahkmenrah saw Sacagawea agree as well.  
  


After, Larry slipped his hand into his pocket. He pulled a small card attached to a string. Holding it out to him, Ahkmenrah took the card and passed the tablet to Larry. "Okay, take this. It'll get you inside." Larry informed.  
  


Ahkmenrah curtly nodded and replied. "Thank you, good luck."  
  


Octavius clambered into Larry's pocket as quickly as possible. The little general was not ideal to be in Sacagawea's pouch as they run around the museum. Octavius agreed as quick as they thought of the plan and wished them good luck.  
  


In the next few seconds, Ahkmenrah never ran as fast as he could. The moment they exited the hidden cover, French and Russian soldiers with the Mafia spotted them under the lamp post. Their angry sounds and flailing weapons got his heart skipping as he tried to slow down in pace with Howard and Sacagawea. To his surprise, they continued running alongside him.  
  


The trees and fountains decorated the scenery around them. With grand buildings in the distance. He knew they needed to get into one of the buildings so they could find a door down to the archives - and perhaps a rest.  
  


He sped up as they got up to the side doors of one of the larger buildings. Skidding to a halt, his hand went towards the handle and tugged with his strength. Ahkmenrah inspected the door, unsure what Larry meant about the card letting them in.  
  


The sound of soldiers shouting began to increase.  
  


Sacagawea then pointed at the small black box next to the door, a red light shining out from it. With the card, he pressed it against the top of the box and saw it turn click.  
  


Then there was a buzz.  
  


Ahkmenrah yanked the door open and he hurried Howard and Sacagawea in. He didn't need to look behind him to hear them. And with a large bang, he slammed the door close - muffling the sounds into a halt.  
  


He let out a huff. He glanced upwards. "Did we lose them?"  
  


Leaning against what seemed to be a vehicle, Howard took deep breaths before letting out a response. "They'll still be on our trail...which is good." He paused. "It'll give them time to decode it. Though, I'm not too sure where we are now."  
  


Sacagawea had stuck close, though wandering her eyes over to the window. When he looked at the same direction, he noticed the soldiers surrounding the front doors of the museum, trying to pry it open with their weapons. Her eyes met his and they gave each other a silent signal to move forward deeper into the building.  
  


This museum was completely different from the others he had seen. It seemed there was a certain theme. Modern and yet filled with the most aged things, the walls and flooring were black, imitating an open plan. There were many posters on the wall, some faded and some black and white. Newspapers reels lined the walls as well, with lamps lighting their titles up. Amongst the wall decoration were photos, varying from monochromatic to colour-popping vibrance.  
  


Ahkmenrah pointed at the large plaque on the wall. "This is the American History Museum I believe." They ventured further down the corridor until they arrived at what seemed to be the main exhibits.  
  


Most of the exhibit compiled of glass cases. With clothes pinned on walls and several bags and weapons. There were more books and newspapers, but also a large screen that seemed to replay again and again. Ahkmenrah wasn't exactly paying attention, only hearing the muffling of the voices coming from them.  
  


At the sound of aeroplanes buzzing and the large bang of a bomb, he realised what exhibit was this.  
  


Howard was the first to speak. "World War Two...there was another one?"  
  


He saw the archaeologist turn to his head to him. Ahkmenrah could tell the shock that began to form in his eyes. He questioned him carefully. "May I ask, when did you... pass away?"  
  


There was an uncomfortable shuffle on his feet before Howard answered, "1939."  
  


' _Must have passed away before it began in the year_ ,' Ahkmenrah inferred, pursing his lips. He kept his eyes trained over the newspapers, seeing the bombing of Pearl Harbour in bold letters. "The same year I believe. She briefly told me of this war, it continued during our time in Cambridge. She said she worked in the front lines of the war for Britain." Ahkmenrah told him and Sacagawea who also observed the area curiously.  
  


He heard a soft chuckle from several metres away. "That sounds like Emilia. Even though she's lived in peace and secluded, deep down there was a heart for her to be heroic." Howard sighed. "And reckless too. Alongside her stubbornness as well, I'm very much sure she would have gone through all that."  
  


He gave a soft chuckle in disbelief. As much as he knew how stubborn Rowen was, Ahkmenrah didn't expect the calm and calculated historian to be a fighter. Yes, he had seen her fight this night and many more. But to hear of recklessness and heroism made him realise he didn't know her. "Howard Carter-"  
  


Ahkmenrah was interrupted by Howard raising a hand. "Just Howard, Ahkmenrah."  
  


He then nodded back and replied. "Howard then. Did you know if Rowen ever...loved anyone?"  
  


Quickly regretting what he said, he internally cringed at himself. Why did he ask that? He knew how risky to ask of something personal. And he hardly knew the man in front of him. Despite all his regrets, he noticed that Howard paused and contemplated. "No. Though may I ask why you ask?"  
  


Ahkmenrah relaxed slightly and answered. "I met Rowen after the war, she worked in Cambridge under the name of Joanna Bates. She has a child: Margaret."  
  


"She has a child?" Howard's eyes bulged. "Blimey...I'm sorry, but I'm just surprised."  
  


"Yes. I don't know where she is at the moment. I only assume she's still in Britain. Why are you surprised?" He gave him a double-take.  
  


Howard let out a laugh and sighed afterwards. "Well throughout my whole life, Emilia never had an interest with _any_ men... _or_ women. Her work and her family she built kept her on her toes. But to hear that she has a family of her own, I'm happy for her." He smiled. "One thing to clear though, I am _not_ the father. Heavens, Evelyn would have a fit. I would only assume it'll be Mister Bates."  
  


Ahkmenrah hummed back, "I assume as much. It is not that I feel my trust in her is not broken. However, I feel as if..." his words stammered at the end, trying to find an answer from the man in front of him.  
  


"As if you don't know her entirely?" Howard finished.  
  


He nodded.  
  


Exhaling, Howard ruffled his hair as he spoke, "I believe Robert and I felt the same when she revealed her immortality. We decided it was best to let her wait. Let her tell us slowly. Sometimes it must be that way." His eyes looked across to Ahkmenrah and felt them dull. "You do not need to worry about my interference, Ahkmenrah. I don't belong in this time, and assuming you have more connection with her: I give you my blessing to confide to her of her own burdens."  
  


Ahkmenrah could feel himself swallow the bile back down, glancing away.  
  


"She carries a weight I have seen throughout my life. Something that only the rarest person could be chosen to be revealed to." The archaeologist said.  
  


He looked back to Howard as he asked, "Then what shall I do?"  
  


"Let your walls come down for her, and she will let hers down with you. Sometimes there must be a retreat before you can win the heart of something or someone you love." He softly answered and placed a hand over his shoulder.  
  


With a smile crawling up, and his chest relieved, Ahkmenrah replied: "Thank you, Howard Carter." He admitted. “I must say when I first met you: I was rather hesitant about your relationship with her.”  
  


Howard’s face didn’t alter, only looking at him quietly.  
  


It was Ahkmenrah’s turn to continue. “I…I will do anything to make sure she and my family are safe. And her past coming back makes me worry that she still lives in the past.” He paused. “But when you are with her, I can tell she is not the Emilia you knew. She is not Joanna as well. She is a blend of everything she has become during the time that was lost with us.”  
  


“They say history doesn’t change. It would be a lie if Rowen Bates stayed the same for the past two hundred years.” Howard assured, "And no worries. Come on...Sacagawea?"  
  


His body then stiffened, trying to search for the Native American woman. Standing on the opposite entrance of the exhibit, Sacagawea gestured at them to walk over.  
  


"I saw something, in one of the interactive boards." She called and walked over to one of the screens.  
  


Howard and he gave each other an odd look before Ahkmenrah approached his friend to the other side of the exhibit. His stepped slowed down as he focused onto the bright screen. It was another black and white film, with what appeared to be soldiers in a camp. There were tents, with campfires and trucks around.  
  


There was a voice-over throughout it, their accent a combination of American and British. They began speaking of life in the front lines until a name popped up.  
  


**Harry Bates.  
  
**

"That should be just a coincidence." Howard shook his head in denial.  
  


He continued to stare at the video playing. The scenery changed into several buildings, smoke coming from the back of the rubble.  
  


Sacagawea replied, "Not when she's there on the clip."  
  


His friend didn't need to point. Because right next to the man, with his arms slung on their shoulders: was Rowen herself.  
  


Not Rowen - but Joanna Darcy.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XXII  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

She froze.  
  


"How do you know my name?"  
  


It barely came out as a whisper. She could feel her whole body go rigid, her heart growing colder by the second.  
  


"Just...a little bird told me. I hear many whispers; I might be thousands of years behind: but life and death are a poem." He drawled out.  
  


She continued to stay frozen on her spot, not even wanting to look at the man.  
  


"It writes the most beautiful words and yet it still means the same." He continued to walk around her, fascinated by the goblet in his hands which he picked up.  
  


As the sound of metal clatter before her, she gritted her teeth when she felt fingers hold her chin. There: a roaring fire fuelled her body, sending sharp inhales up her throat as she was forced to tilt her head upwards.  
  


Rowena stared back at him.  
  


" ** _You may have a different face, Isis, but it is still you_."  
  
**

A strange tone in his voice came out of his mouth, almost ringing in her head. She wasn't sure if she was hearing it outside or in her mind.  
  


Jerking her chin off his fingers, he pulled them back as if he touched something poisonous - but never changing the darkened expression he wore.  
  


But then out of the moment, she felt something in her head to answer back. Two voices mixed as she spoke back in perfect ancient Egyptian, **" _Then tell me, what if I accept to become queen willingly?_ "  
  
**

Hiding the shock of her answer, she idly watched Kahmunrah scoff back. "Of course: you will marry me and we will reign this world." He waved his hands at her. "You may get whatever you wish you desired."  
  


Rowena quirked her brow upwards.  
  


"Anything?" She asked.  
  


"I have the powers of a god." He declared, pride slipping into his voice. " **Set** has blessed me ever since my father overtook the throne."  
  


When the mention of the name, Rowena quickly ran her head through a search. ' _The god of war, chaos and storms...why would a king choose that god? Surely it should be Horus, for he represented the kings of Egypt under his title._ ' She discussed in her head. ' _And his father? And overtaking the throne? Gods..._ '  
  


Something felt stuck in her throat.  
  


Her breath cut in revelation.  
  


No one needed to be smart to realise that the man in front of her was part of _his_ family's death.  
  


The man in front of her - his father - killed Kahmunrah.  
  


Killed a whole family.  
  


The stories were all wrong.  
  


She wanted to hit herself in the head with a rock. ' _Stupid, Stupid!_ ' She scolded herself. ' _Seventy years of studying the Old Kingdom and you didn't connect the dots!_ ' Rowena was on the verge of having a fit, hadn't she thought of another question that made her pause.  
  


So, who was the man in front of her? How did they come to make a wax statue of a pharaoh that they did not have enough evidence for?  
  


Rowena then realised that the man in question was waiting for her to answer - very impatiently too. “Your father.”  
  


“My father, despite being neglectful of what he saw the raw potential in me – was an inspiration.” Fake Kahmunrah explained. “Set saw something in him, in our family, that we would be able to strive to greatness. Better than those that were currently ruling. Like him.”  
  


“What did Set want from you?” Rowena questioned, but was immediately shut by an invisible force.”  
  


Fake Kahmunrah’s eyes glowed like rubies, making her body shiver in cold. “ ** _Never. Speak. His name in front of me!_** ” He hissed.  
  


The other voice called out from her mouth “ ** _Try as you will, traitor._** ” Rowena glared. “ ** _Your name will never have any power in the domain of mortals._** ”  
  


“ ** _Let your guardian speak, Isis._** ” The pretender demanded. “ ** _Let her speak her mind and we shall see who has the power in this realm._** ”  
  


She then inquired back, "If I asked you to resurrect someone, will you do so?"  
  


Her mind snapped into focus. Why did she say that?  
  


The fake pharaoh stepped forward, circling her as he spoke. "You have lost someone." He paused his steps. "Someone dear to you..."  
  


The moment the pharaoh spoke, her thoughts crossed to him.  
  


_"You know you don't need to smile to show me," Harry told her. "Either way, it's not about the lips."  
  
_

_She glanced up to the side and raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Then what is it?"  
  
_

_"It's the eyes."  
  
_

_She couldn't help but snort at the corny idea.  
  
_

_Harry answered. "The eyes never lie. A smile could be faked but the eyes can never. They say the eyes are the windows to our souls." He gave her a side smile, nudging her arm.  
  
_

_She couldn't help but crack up a small smile, before chuckling. Sometimes she wondered how she came to care for Harry Bates at times like this.  
  
_

_In the middle of a war.  
  
_

_Her light in such darkness.  
  
_

_She might even consider her thoughts on the man as even love...  
  
_

"Unfortunately, I cannot bring back him, Rowena." The Fake Kahmunrah spoke, snapping her back to reality.  
  


Rowena quickly gained her breath back, shaking her head as she spoke. "No, not him. I... I do not love him anymore."  
  


She paused her herself then, surprised how much it didn't hurt after so long of trying to forget him. Why now? Where was the pain in her chest whenever she heard his voice in her head? It confused her.  
  


Growing impatient, Fake Kahmunrah tapped his foot and demanded, "Then who is it? Come on..."  
  


' _No one_ ,' She wanted to say.  
  


But she knew he would see the lie too nakedly. The pharaoh wouldn't leave her alone at all. Though somehow, she wanted to say it. To finally confess to the most unexpected person. To the man that was considered an enemy in Ahkmenrah's eyes. To the person who least deserved to know.  
  


The only way was to speak of something she had never told anyone for almost fifteen years.  
  


_"Mamma!"  
  
_

_Tilting her head up, she spotted her daughter running up to her. "Yes, my dove?" She asked softly.  
  
_

_Margaret Bates, known to most as Peggy, held out her hands, a bunch of heliotropes cluttered with daylilies.  
  
_

_"For you, Mamma." She said to her.  
  
_

_Rowena placed her journal on the bench and she took the bouquet with a small sniff. The fresh fragrance entering her nostrils. Rowena studied the flowers, impressed by how she improved with her flower meanings. Leaning her face down, she pressed her lips onto her daughter's head. "It's wonderful, Peggy. I will put it in a vase in my office." She told her.  
  
_

_Peggy beamed before grabbing her shoulders to wrap her small hands around her neck. The quick hug sent her heart soaring, as she then watched her run back around the garden, chasing the dog in the summer sun.  
  
_

Rowena whispered under her breath, "My daughter."  
  


Fake Kahmunrah swivelled his head to her.  
  


She spoke again, slightly wavering the name. "Margaret." Rowena paused. "Her name was Margaret."  
  


‘ ** _Guardian, what are you doing?_** ’  
  


"How much does she mean to you, Rowena Clarke?" He questioned her; eyes trained on her with intent.  
  


‘ ** _You must not be tempted…_** ’  
  


She swallowed the bile rising once more, telling herself to calm down. But she could feel her hands shaking, her legs going weak under her. Rowena parted her mouth, "I would trade _this_ for her life."  
  


‘ ** _Little one-_** ‘  
  


‘ _I’m sorry…_ ’  
  


‘ ** _Rowena…_** ’  
  


She shut her eyes to pause, exhaling back. When she opened them once more, all she saw was the victory in the pharaoh's eyes. He had done what none has achieved from her. All her life, men had pulled her down, taken her body and mind and tortured it.  
  


But to willingly choose to have what she desired in her heart and soul from the man that caused her friend's demise was not something she expected. Rowena had gone through war, death and loss. She felt so naked. Exposed. Ashamed. In her head: she was screaming, telling herself to stop.  
  


However, that was not the case.  
  


Rowena finally confessed, "...My immortality for her life."  
  


Fake Kahmunrah's thinned his lips. He continued to pry as he asked her. "And how would you persuade me to do so?"  
  


She heard a call echo back, "Gigantress?"  
  


' _I need to do this,_ ' Rowena told herself. ' _I need to save them. Save him. The only way to get information and to defeat him is this...Even if it'll hurt him more_.'  
  


"With what Ahkmenrah has always wanted..." She exhaled and stared at him intently. She kept her face plain, removing all emotions aside. "I will give my love to you instead."  
  


"No!"  
  


She could hear Jedediah's growing protests as he slammed the glass with his fists. But she couldn't look back. Her eyes were trained onto the pharaoh...or whoever he truly was. As she continued to look deeply back, Rowena saw the facade hidden on his face. His eyes.  
  


A tint of red in his pupils. The glowing had dulled, but the red remained.  
  


This was not the fake-Kahmunrah they knew several hours ago. This was someone that could sense your darkest fears and secrets. The man they met earlier wouldn't even bat an eye at her and wouldn't even bother to call out her name other than 'whore'. No: something was happening with the true soul of encased in the robes of a wax figurine.  
  


She sharply inhaled.  
  


The pendant she wore burned hot under her skin.  
  


Rowena could feel the tendrils around her mind clench over her memories. The cries of her daughter, the laughter of her small voice. The sound of her daughter inhaling her last breath.  
  


Fake Kahmunrah answered, "...Your daughter will then return to the world."  
  


Nodding back, Rowena lowered her eyes down and bit the pain on her chest. The pendant had almost scorched her shirt hadn't she looked away. This intrigued her, and many more questions popped into her head. Had he noticed her carry the pendant? And if he did, why didn't he take it when she was bound?  
  


"What are you doing?" Jedediah whispered behind her and she bit back the tears - a mixture of acting and soreness of her chest.  
  


Whilst Fake Kahmunrah looked the other way, she quickly turned over to the cowboy and morphed her face back to quick stern nod.  
  


_'Don't worry. Just go along with it, please_.' Rowen gave him a pleading look.  
  


A sudden realisation popped in Jedediah's eyes - knowing well enough her rather rushed plan. Though that only lasted long enough for her to think again of her daughter, fuelling her low esteem as Fake Kahmunrah clambered back onto his 'throne' - studying Jed with a smirk. She knew he felt triumph after achieving the desires from her and the small scar cut between herself and her friends.  
  


Mentally, she sighed.  
  


This was going to be more difficult than she thought. And she could not deny that the panic of the revelations that were brought to her so quickly scared her. If acting were the only way to save them, Rowena would do whatever it took to keep them alive in the next night. She would accept the consequences...even if it damaged her relationships with the family she grew to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	25. A Story for a Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah, Howard and Sacagawea learn a secret part of the Guardian of Cambridge, whilst Amelia, Octavius and Larry try and find the person they need to decode the Tablet.
> 
> Along the ride, conversations about trust and happiness are told between our two favourite strong women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does it feel like I haven't been back in a while (even though it's just been four days since my previous update)? 
> 
> Anyways, welcome back and things have turned very emotional and deep for our characters. Ahk's struggling to comprehend the truth whilst Larry is doubting his entire career whilst each of their female companions is trying to get their head of their arses.
> 
> As of now, I've just finished writing the end of part 2 (which is why this chapter feels so long ago). And I'm just brushing up with editing with the rest. Hope you guys enjoy and have a lovely day/night. :)

** Ahkmenrah V  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

The first time Ahkmenrah learnt of war: he wanted to join his father on his conquest of the east.  
  


Whenever his father wasn't busy running their realm or spending time with his mother or other wives, he would give his time with the two children he had. He would talk of stories during battles and the people he slew - how his _khopesh_ would easily cut the necks of his enemies and how he saved their people from pillaging. Ahkmenrah remembered listening carefully at every word his father spoke. Every detail from the sand rubbing against their skin and the taste of blood.  
  


But then he grew up. Those dreams of fighting with his father; his brother and cousins. His friends. The beauty of battles and fighting was sliced through by the same weapon he used when he first took a life.  
  


Now he was watching the very thing he grew to hate, though this time it was not his father telling the story of war.  
  


A voice narrated the video reeling as Ahkmenrah, Howard and Sacagawea watched.  
  


Right in front of him was a group of men with several nurse women jotted around. Rowen (or Joanna in this case) and the rest were singing some songs, assuming at how they were dancing around a fire, holding hands with the man that was supposed to become Peggy's father.  
  


> " _Sergeant Harrison Alessandro Bates, also known as Harry to his close ones, was of the 104th unit. He was amongst many of our Ally soldiers that were captured during the Second World War in the northern camps of Italy. However, many escaped by the help of British Intelligence and led the rest of the allies back to France."  
>   
> _

Despite how much he wanted to see a younger Rowen in videos, Ahkmenrah expected that she wouldn't appear anymore other than the campfire video. The video continued to change, mostly cars and tanks driving through roads, cities and forests. There were scenes of an open field, with muddy trenches and odd wooden and metal barricades.  
  


It also gave him a key description of Harry Bates, who was far from what he expected. Tall and blonde, he wore himself like a leader with a uniform that was sleek but ruined with shaggy hair. His face, despite blurry from the technology, bore a similarity to the little girl he knew in Cambridge.  
  


The nose, jaw, lips and the face they both make when they glared.  
  


He took a sharp breath.  
  


It would be a lie that both Harry and Peggy were not of the same blood.  
  


> " _He led the siege across the French and German border, having saved many lives on the crossfire of many towns and villages. However, his life was cut short on the last days of the Rhineland Offensive_."  
>   
> 

A scene of a wide winding river appeared in the screen. With the growing sound of bombs and smoke. Planes were buzzing in the background and the cries of soldiers and guns. The machines which he's first been introduced by Rowen herself - when she pointed the dark small object at him the moment they met.  
  


It was a bloodbath.   
  


He didn't need to see the video in colour to not imagine the amount of red there were.  
  


> " _Overall, there were 272,448 casualties. 50,410 of these were Americans who fought bravely to cross the Rhine river and gain the towns Manheim and Worms on their crossing. Without the victory of the Allies' crossing, our advance to defeating the Nazi regime would have been hindered. We thank those like Harry Bates and his fellow comrades for sacrificing their lives for the future of our people._ "  
>   
> 

The scene changed. Now there seemed to be in a city. New York, it appeared to be. The camera panned over the street, with several cars driving in rows. Everybody seemed to wear dark clothing, which he wasn't sure if they were just dark colours or black. And then the final shot had been a tombstone. With a name written at the front.  
  


Harry Bates' tombstone.  
  


"Ahk?"  
  


Blinking, he looked to his side and recollected the thoughts. He then heard the growing sound of footsteps and metallic weapon clinking.  
  


All three of them gave each other an alarming look and began to hurry down the museum.  
  


He wasn't sure where they were going. All he knew was that he was running, clinging onto Sacagawea's wrist as they rushed out of the museum and back into the open air. The cold didn't even seem to seep in as they clambered up the steps of the white airy building and took shelter behind the giant pillars.  
  


His back slammed against the cold surface, knocking out the air in his lungs. That woke him up, and he found himself gasping out: "You see it, don't you?" Ahkmenrah's voice wavered, "She looked like him. Peggy...that's her father."  
  


The first person he saw was Howard, who gave him an unquestionable gaze before looking behind him. Sacagawea stood next to him, concern filling her eyes.  
  


Ahkmenrah snapped his head to her and inquired, "Why? Why didn't she tell us?" He suppressed his anger, trembling in his voice. "I thought she trusted us?"  
  


A hand placed over his shoulder and glanced away as soon as Sacagawea's worried eyes stared back.  
  


"Ahk. You mustn't be angry with the secrecy." She began to explain softly. "Sometimes it is best to hide our past. Like yours with your brother. Like mine, like Octavius'. Like Jed's. Like Teddy's. Even Howard's and Larry's.”  
  


Sacagawea said, “But pain cannot be hidden, that is what destroys us the most. As Howard says...forgiveness is the first step to getting better."  
  


Ahkmenrah's eyes darted back to hers, who sighed deeply before continuing to speak.  
  


"I knew what would have happened if everything went as planned. And I should have been angry at Teddy for lying to me. To us." She admitted. "But I realised that I mustn't be angered at a lie we cannot understand from his perspective.”  
  


At that turn, Ahkmenrah turned to her and held her hand in his. A pang of regret rested on his heart. He had been so intertwined with what was happening all this time that he forgot the reason why they were here in the beginning.  
  


The Native American woman now realised their vulnerability: and it was that they were just exhibits. They were not truly alive anymore.  


Sacagawea eyes watered under the moonlight, a mixture of sorrow and realisation. "I needed to put myself into Teddy's shoes: to feel what it's like to lose the person I love and the people I love. " She sighed heavily. "Sometimes the other perspective is different. And we may never understand. But the best thing to do is to accept it. To accept their faults and choices no matter how large it is.”  
  


Teddy lied to her. To everyone that was being shipped out. He remembered that night when the president told him of the outcome. Ahkmenrah was furious, upset that his friends were forced to leave. His family. Like him, when Rowen told him fifty years ago that he was going to New York and he was not going to see his family ever again.  
  


He now realised what it was to be in Rowen's shoes. To tell someone that something that seemed not-so-bad was going to be worse.  
  


Like his father's stories. Now it was this.  
  


She had lied to him again.  
  


But something in his mind told him he was making a grave mistake.  
  


He shouldn't be angry. He hid his own secrets, more than what others expected. His whole family was filled up with secrecy that it would take years to dig it all up.  
  


Perhaps he should have told Larry, Rowen and the rest the truth. How the man that stood between them and safety was a psychopath waiting to blow everything up. The man who was already a mad man born from a boy. The man who had been like friends to his family for years.  
  


She cupped his hands, rubbing his palms against hers. It sent a warm feeling up his arms and into his chest. His heart thrummed in his chest, sending a soothing breath out his lips. Sacagawea was like a bigger sister to him, always making sure he and the exhibits were alright. Her speech of acceptance soothed his chest slightly, and it was the only thing that kept him from not going into a rage – or break down.  
  


He smiled to reassure her, letting go of her hands after.  
  


"Blast these pigeons!"  
  


The moment he turned to look up, the warmth in his chest felt it got put into a fridge. Standing in front of them was a twenty-foot marble man - swatting birds from his arms.   
  


' _Larry must have passed by here._ ' Ahkmenrah thought followed by a curse under his native tongue. ‘ _How that night guard is oblivious to his actions baffles me._ ’  
  


"Great Gatsby." Howard breathed. He waved his arms, planting his finger by his lips. "Mr President! Please could you keep quiet!"  
  


However, the statue was not listening and mumbled. "Time to see the state-"  
  


"No! Sir, please I suggest you sit down." It was Ahkmenrah's turn to panic, signalling for the man to sit back onto the marble seat.  
  


Instead, the giant statue bent down and peered his eyes at them. "Aren't you all rather small? Freakishly small..."  
  


The sound of boots began to get closer.  
  


Howard ordered, "Mr Abraham. Freeze!"  
  


The three quickly hid behind the pillars, pressing themselves up against the cold surface. As the sound of running diminished, Ahkmenrah let out a heavy exhale and glanced up to the male statue with a sincere nod. "Thank you."  
  


"You're welcome." The giant statue then peered down and responded, "If I may, the little lady has a point. You must always see the many sides of the story before you come to understand the truth of the situation. But to also aid the faults they have."  
  


There was a quick silent look between him and Sacagawea, who quietly beamed back - a blush on her cheeks. He quickly shook the thought away, 'E _ither I'm just getting truly old or Sacagawea clearly blushed at another president.'  
  
_

"I will...take note." Ahkmenrah nodded curtly. An idea then came out of thin air as he looked up at the statue. He smiled politely and asked, "Actually, if you won't mind. Could you help us? We need to get back to the Castle Museum. But our friends need a distraction."  
  


Abraham tipped his top hat. "Certainly." He answered, "I will assist you in saving your comrades. Come along, dress-wearing man."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XIX  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

As soon as Ahkmenrah, Sacagawea and Howard sent the rest of Fake-Kahmunrah's group on a wild goose chase: Amelia, Octavius and he strode quickly towards the Air and Space Museum.   
  


His eyes kept panning around, making sure no one else had discovered him and the two. Not that Larry already felt uncomfortable carrying the golden Tablet under his jacket, people were after their necks (or head? He wasn’t sure.).  
  


The trust Ahkmenrah placed on Larry to decode the Tablet still gave him a sense of honour. But that didn’t match the rumbling discomfort and guilt in his stomach.  
  


Sometimes he wondered how much trust the exhibits truly put on him. Or Rowen or Rebecca. He knew from the tension between him and the exhibits only grew as his time at the museum lessened. Most of the hostility had been from Jedediah, Octavius and Ahkmenrah: who cared for Rowen’s health more than anyone else. The curator and professor took more time with the exhibit than what she was supposed to. Rebecca always told her how Rowen would fall asleep in several parts of the museum. Mostly in her office and the conservation room.   
  


He wondered why they didn't even suggest getting a new night guard, but Larry didn't need to think hard about that. The exhibits are like a family now, and they would not like a new unfamiliar face wanting to rile them all up back into cages.  
  


Or perhaps even worse.  
  


They might expose the truth of the Tablet to the world.  
  


An internal slap on the face sent him glancing over to Amelia, who walked beside him.  
  


"Tell me, Mr Daley." Amelia gave him an incredulous look. "I assume you have a lady friend?"  
  


Larry flicked his head to her.  
  


And then to Octavius, who kept his lips shut.  
  


"What?" He replied.  
  


"Well, from how you reacted to my kiss. Anyone would find you rather attractive." She explained. From the corner of her lips, Amelia quirked up a smile - looking ahead as they walked towards the doors of the building.  
  


He lost for words, and slowly feeling rather warm as he hesitated, "W-well I mean I'm busy really, not really wanting to have this conversation when we've got two people hanging onto a thread that wants to rule the world."  
  


There was a hum of agreement from the miniature general. Though, all he got was an unimpressed look from the pilot in question.  
  


"Busy is just an excuse," Amelia answered and gestured to Larry. "Considering you wear the uniform you work here in antiquities."  
  


He looked down to wear Octavius sat in his pocket who looked forward out in the distance. The dryness down his throat made him gulp. Larry let out a sigh, forgetting what he had been wearing for the past few hours. He was impressed in himself that he got used to the stiff clothes. "I was a guard back in New York, but - uh - that was a while ago."  
  


"So why did you leave? Did you not enjoy it?" Amelia wondered.  
  


' _Oh I did..._ ' He wanted to say. ' _And this is going to get much more awkward when Octavius is in my pocket_.' Instead, Larry replied, "No, I loved it. It's just...sometimes you got to do more than just a night guard job."  
  


He then tried to smile, but the guilt kept him from maintaining it.  
  


"So, what do you do now?"  
  


"Well, I sort of... Well, I sort of design products and sell them." Larry explained, elaborating on his most known products like the **'Glow-in-the-dark Torch’** and his ‘ **Unchewable Dogbone** ’ that could last for more than three years (but still recyclable).  
  


Her eyes lit up as she exclaimed, "You're an entrepreneur!"  
  


They arrived at the side door, but he was still thinking about what Amelia was talking about. He forgot he had a business meeting with a Japanese company tomorrow, he completely forgot about it had not the pilot mentioned his work.  
  


The thoughts of his company. Remembering how he began, with just a couple of people who were in the same situation as him. Who wanted a better job, a better life. They chose to work for him because of his big ideas, no matter how unrealistic or bizarre is sometimes were.  
  


Come to think of it: most of the ideas came from one thing: his time at the museum.  
  


Larry trailed off, "Yeah..."  
  


"I'm simply confused, that's all. If you're not excited by it, why do you do it?" She asked, confusion written on her furrowed eyebrows.  
  


Larry wanted to retort and opened his mouth. "I am excited about it. I just said..."  
  


His shut his mouth when both of Amelia's hands placed themselves across her hips. She stood in front of him, preventing him from unlocking the door with the key card.   
  


‘ _Okay, what now?_ ’ He asked himself.  
  


“I know what you said, Mr Daley, but what I see in front of me is a man who's lost his _moxie,_ " Amelia spoke.  
  


"My what-"  
  


"Do you know why I became a pilot?" She barged him a question, her bright blue eyes brighter under the light. For some reason, the thrum in his chest didn't skip since the kiss. But there was still the warmth and confidence in himself when he looked at Amelia in the eyes.  
  


Larry confidently replied, "I don't, no."  
  


"Do you think I didn't know what people said about me behind my back? That I was a second-rate pilot? That I was married to a publishing magnate who gave me free publicity? They expected me to just fly home, sit in the kitchen all day and wait for a man that went to work they enjoyed." Amelia then grinned, her eyes looking glassy - nostalgia folding out. "What did I do? I ignored it. I did what I loved, and it was fun. Perhaps it was something you also did too, General?"  
  


Down in his pocket, Octavius coughed - probably after being snapped from his thoughts. The general glanced up to Amelia. He nodded, "It was a good job, and honour at best.” His tone then softened and spoke, “But what I did love was the gladiator fights.”  
  


Glancing away, Larry wanted to smile at Octavius' reminiscence of his past life. He could imagine the man fighting in the _Colosseum_ , winning every match. It must be different fighting in a real battle to Larry's assumption.   
  


Though as much as Octavius' conversation taking a change, Larry knew it was the right time to speak to Amelia about what happened. Every moment he saw the woman smile at him; he could tell the smile was not fake. She saw the admiration in them whenever he caught his eyes staring back and he felt confused and angry at himself.  
  


He had Rebecca. The woman who stayed to make sure Nick was okay, who made sure the museum was safe and would always support him. The person who stood by him when he first had his press conference a few months back, who waited for him even if he was up all night working on some product that popped up in his head.  
  


And then he realised the other bits of his life. The parts that did not seem so bright and lovable. How he could tell that Rebecca wanted to say something after he explained a situation; how that he needed to move their date nights. How he could see Rebecca spending more time with Nicky and talking to him about what his son had been doing that week.  
  


How the smile on her face was beginning to strain.  
  


Larry wanted to hit his head with a brick.  
  


He was acting like a jerk for the past year. And he forgot the one person that had been with him all this time. The person his heart chose no matter how his head was somewhere else. He could imagine her already standing beside Amelia, staring at him with the most disappointing expression.  
  


Not disappointment, but probably betrayal.  
  


In the end, Larry let out an exhale. "Well, look. Amelia...I like you. You're incredible and I think you're an amazing person." He then confessed, "But yes...I do have someone waiting for me. Back in New York."  
  


Her eyes widened and Amelia breathed, "Oh...well I do apologise-"  
  


"No! No. I mean it's my fault really. I shouldn't have led you on. But I can't lie. Meeting you in person...you made me think of some things. What I've been doing for the past year." Larry admitted, scratching the back of his neck.  
  


There was a moment of silence.  
  


Amelia bit her lip, tapping her foot as the sound of the door clicked open. As Larry pulled the handle, he turned next to the pilot and found her smiling sadly.  
  


"I am glad that I've opened that skull of yours, then." Amelia softly spoke, "What's her name then?"  
  


A picture of her face appeared in his mind and his chest tightened.  
  


He gave her a simple answer: "Rebecca."  
  


Patting his shoulder, Amelia grinned back. "Then it's best to make sure you get home to this Rebecca safely."  
  


The pilot then entered the building first, giving him time to process what just happened. He blinked several times.  
  


There was a pat on his chest.  
  


"You handled that like a true man, Larry," Octavius said back, a tone of pride in his voice.  
  


He let out the breath he held throughout the whole scene and smiled at his friend. With a ragged voice, he replied, "Thanks."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

It was like watching a whole show come alive once more. The sound of people moving, bustling around as the room lit up in bright colours. Small planes were flying about, the smell of smoke and rustic metal ensnaring his lungs. He kept the Tablet hidden underneath, making sure Octavius was comfortable looking around.  
  


As a child, Larry has seen many things. Even if he did not see the first rocket go up to space, watching it alive with the familiar faces walking about gave him goosebumps. His jaw dropped to see the NASA rocket right in the main podium, with several control panels surrounding the middle room.  
  


He and Amelia continued to search for the Einstein heads, panning his eyes around for the glass box that contained them. But they then halted as two African American men approached them. Larry thought they were looking at him but noticed how their eyes went straight for the pilot beside him.  
  


"I wanna say thank you." A man shook Amelia's hand briefly and spoke with a nervous tone.  
  


Larry looked over to his friend, who's eyes glittered in admiration to the two men standing in front of them. He smiled at them both, the Tuskegee Airmen kind of 'fangirling' over the pilot.  
  


She questioned back, "What for, Captain?"  
  


"A lot of people didn't think we could fly, either." The other man admitted, he then held his arm against his head and saluted. "Thanks for clearing the runway, ma'am."  
  


The three continued to discuss the same subject on flying when Larry remembered the glass exhibit. But to his frustration - it was empty. He cursed under his breath.  
  


One of the Tuskegee Airmen asked Amelia, "Race you to Paris?"  
  


"You're on!" She replied with the same enthusiasm and began to follow them.   
  


He then realised that they were taking it seriously and grabbed Amelia's arm faster than he could imagine. Tugging her back, her head there was a look of anticipation which slowly deflated. Larry gave her the 'seriously' gaze before she relaxed her tightened posture. Amelia gave him a nod and eyed down.  
  


He gently removed his grip and apologised. Amelia smiled back, reassuring him again before the continued searching.   
  


"All systems go and green for lift-off!"   
  


Another voice echoed back, "Roger that!"  
  


Someone shouted from the control panel, sending off the sound of engines whirring, and the smoke rose from the bottom of the rocket. He widened his eyes and quickly ran over to the control panels, slamming his hands onto the desk.  
  


He shouted at the men in uniform and waved his hands, "No, we're definitely not green for any kind of lift-off!" Larry told him, "Shut it down!"  
  


The man stared at Larry with a little fear, before hesitantly pressing the red button. Larry's voice played over the speakers, making the rockets and planes turn off and the whinging grow from the other pilots.  
  


He returned his composure and thank the men standing behind the computers. Octavius scolded him, telling him that he ruptured his eardrums and Larry muttered a quick apology before they headed back surveying for the bobbleheads.  
  


On the way around, he heard a gentle cooing coming from one of the glass tables. He paused in his tracks and took a double-take.   
  


Right in front of him and Octavius was a capuchin, wearing an astronaut suit.  
  


"Hey, little space monkey." Larry peered down and noticed the nametag on the front. "You're Able. Okay, good. How are you doing? Yes, good. At ease. All right. You're a polite little fella, aren't you?"  
  


Able easily took his hand and made a sound of approval at Larry's gesture. But their meeting was cut short when he heard Amelia voice;  
  


"Mr Daley! I found your Einsteins."  
  


Larry and Octavius said their goodbyes to Able and went over to where Amelia stood by the reception desk in the middle of the museum. As they got closer, Larry found himself looked over eight different bobbleheads, nodding along as they wrote equations on post-it notes.  
  


Coughing gently, Amelia caught their attention. "Gentlemen, we're trying to crack the combination of this Tablet doodad, and the writing here says we'll find it if we figure out the secret at the heart of pharaoh's tomb."   
  


In that time, Larry took out the tablet from his hands and showed the golden tablet to the bobbleheads. Even with their animated bulged eyes, they still widened in awe at the artefact.  
  


"That's an easy one. The answer's in the question. It's a figure! I.e., a number. And the Pharaoh's tomb, i.e. the pyramids." One of the Einsteins hopped up to the countertop and spoke.  
  


He continued to stare them blankly.  
  


Another Einstein jumped into the first Einstein's spot next to him and tapped the pen into his head. "Don't you get it, kid? You're looking for the secret number at the heart of the pyramids."  
  


Octavius shrugged at him when Larry glanced down at him.  
  


"Well, whistle me Dixie, the answer's pi!" Her eyes lit up as she clicked her fingers.   
  


He replied aloud, "Pi?"  
  


Two more Einsteins began writing something on the post-it notes. A couple of seconds later, they showed him two things: a picture of the pyramid with the Greek symbol pi and the other was the value. "3.14159265, to be exact," The Einstein holding the pyramid drawing answered.  
  


' _How did she...nevermind I'm not going to ask_.' Larry said in his head, who continued to furrow his eyebrows at them. ' _Pi...why pi when it's Greek? Man... I wish Rowen was here, or Ahk instead_.' He wanted to groan in annoyance at everything, the only thing that was keeping him awake was the adrenaline and rush.  
  


But instead, Larry muttered, "Yeah, okay, 3.14..." He nodded at the Einsteins. "I've got it." He glanced over to Amelia and nudged his chin to her.  
  


With Amelia repeating the same gesture, she thanked the small bobbleheads. "Thank you, Mr Einsteins."  
  


Larry thanked them as well (with a small mutter of gratitude from Octavius) and the three began their exit out of the building. More of the exhibits continued to walk about, caring more of their work as they manoeuvred over to the doors until they halted.  
  


Ivan, Al Capone and Napoleon's men had found them.  
  


Their eyes caught him, and they widened, earning an exclamation of their presence. He looked over at Amelia and gave her the signal. He warned Octavius to hold tight as he began to run. He and the pilot took the staircase, his feet running faster than his heart could as they whirled up to the top floor. Halfway through, he glanced down and spotted the men already getting up the stairs, shoving away the other pilots.  
  


He then glanced over at Amelia, who was instantly searching for a familiar face. Walking past them, the same men she chatted with before. She stopped Tuskegee airmen and pleaded, "Gentlemen, could you buy us some time, please?"  
  


The men tilted their heads with a stern look and ushered them up to the top. When they got to the top floor, all they heard were men shouting as they fought on the middle of the stairs. As Larry followed Amelia, he slowed down his tracks as to where his friend was intending to go. He shook his head and shouted inside, ' _No way! I am not...oh for fuck's sake!_ '  
  


Before he could even protest, Larry was already rushing up the ladder up to the plane.  
  


A plane which looked more like it was made for a science fair than for a person.  
  


"No! That's the first plane ever made!" Larry said with struggle as he pulled himself up. He placed the tablet onto the bottom wing and heaved himself up. "It's made out of balsa wood and paper." He argued.  
  


Amelia retorted, "It's made out of spruce and canvas and good old-fashioned American ingenuity!” She questioned, “Are you coming, or what?"  
  


"Out of our way!"  
  


"They're getting away!"  
  


' _Okay, paper plane it is!_ ' He screamed to himself and scrambled up. His whole body was shaking (or perhaps it was the plane itself) as he crawled over to where the handles were. Amelia was cutting the strings that kept it suspended before turning the engine on.  
  


Amelia grinned at him, and said: "Hang on, Mr Daley and General Octavius! Things are about to get interesting!"  
  


He did what he was told and kept his hold of the handles, tucking the tablet between his chest and the wing.   
  


The engine turned on and everything shook.  
  


The plane dropped.  
  


His heart dropped right into the bottom of his stomach. His throat tightened and he cut himself from screaming.  
  


"Great Jupiter!" Octavius breathed held himself firmly inside his pocket.  
  


They flew around the ceiling of the museum, dodging the other planes as they all began to fly as well. As they turned down to the open corridor, he held back a yelp as the plane ducked down - cutting the metal supports on the large building.  
  


"A lady pilot! Preposterous!"   
  


"Think again, boys!" Amelia said back, and he felt something given to him in his other hand. "Here, take the stick!"  
  


"No! I'm not gonna..." However, the pilot did not give him any choice but to feel his shaking hands over what was the steering wheel. Shutting his eyes for a second, he took a breath. ' _You can do this, Daley. You can do this..._ '  
  


His hand gripped it even firmer. He gritted his teeth. And with the ounce of courage left in him: Larry led them out of the museum and out into the open sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying up some things in part 2 before continuing parts 3 and 4.


	26. Battle of the Smithsonian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle we've all been looking for. Alongside feelings revealed, names exposed and excellent duels: a whole entire mystery is brought up to the surface between the guardians of the tablet and even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter involves scenes of extreme violence and some mentions of blood and swearing.
> 
> Bold Italics: Ancient Egyptian

** Larry XX  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

Driving a car and parking it was simple; it only took him several tries before passing his test.  
  


But driving the first-ever plane made in 1903 and parking it on a patch of grass and concrete for the first time which did not include a test - was far from _simple_.  
  


Should be easy peasy.  
  


Wind sweeping his hair back, he had to keep his mouth shut or else a fly would get into his mouth. He directed the plane, marking a specific area just in front of the Castle Museum. He kept his eyes trained, listening to Amelia's instructions before changing the controller's position.  
  


They had dived slowly down, his eyes still trained on the front lawn.  
  


' _Come on Daley, you can do this_.' He chanted in his head and gritted his teeth, letting the plane's wings tilt and shake. They wobbled slightly, letting his heart thrum the same patterns as the vibrations as the ground got closer and closer. He bit back his growl before letting the plane touch down.  
  


Dirt began to fly around them as the bottom of the plane drove into the ground. The three of them grunted in pain as the plane jittered and shake. As they got closer to the building, Larry looked up in a panic. Were they going to hit the wall?  
  


Fifty metres.  
  


' _Come on!_ ' Larry shouted internally.  
  


Thirty metres until the wall and the plane still was not slow enough.  
  


' _Slow down!_ '  
  


Fifteen metres.  
  


' _Oh no..._ '  
  


And in the last ten metres from the large glass walls of the building - the plane halted.  
  


He sighed. Never was he going to try and fly a paper plane ever again.  
  


When his ears perked up, he found Amelia letting out a breathless laugh. Something inside him bubbled until Larry found himself laughing along. In his pocket, Octavius shook his head in disbelief before chuckling with the two.  
  


Though, his laugh was cut short when he noticed the large clock hanging from the inside of the room.  
  


They had five minutes left.  
  


He turned to Amelia and he said spoke, "Come on, we've got to go."  
  


The pilot nodded and the three got off the plane, the tablet in his hands. They sped to the front entrance of the building, surprised to find the door unguarded. The corridor was empty, with empty glass cases as they strode down to the main room.  
  


He said to Amelia, "Go find some backup."  
  


There was insistence in his voice which Amelia could only nod before taking the key card he held out to her. She sprinted out to the security doors, hopefully to the shipping container where they left their friends for the entire night.  
  


Larry gave himself another moment to compose himself. He gave himself a deep breath, finding his gaze looming at Octavius'. The general seemed to appear sturdier, prepared to enter the main exhibit hall. He could do this. He could stall long enough for Amelia or Ahk to come back.  
  


He shut his eyes and an image of Rebecca came across his mind.  
  


Nick, Rowen and the Exhibits too.  
  


When he opened his eyes once more, Larry took his first quick steps and entered the lion's den.  
  


He made it to the entrance of the room, enough to see what he had already seen before. There were Mafia men lines around the room, stationed enough for him to not get any ideas. Mixed with them were the leftovers of Russian and French soldiers, standing still and firm. Once he slowly got to the middle of the room, he heard the shuffle of footsteps. He glanced back to find the front entrance blocked by the soldiers.  
  


Another curse echoed in his head as he panned his eyes back in front of him.  
  


There standing on the bottom pile of the golden mess was the pharaoh himself, a growing smirk on his lips. Larry inhaled sharply. He wished he could wipe that smug off the _wax dickwad's_ face with his fist.  
  


"Gigantor! Octavius!"  
  


His head turned as quick as a fox, trying to find the source of the voice. It didn't take him long and spotted where it was. The Fake-Kahmunrah was holding the hourglass in his hand, making his own grasp of the tablet tighten. Jedediah's head was what was left in the sand, more grains continuing to fall.  
  


On the right side of the pharaoh was Rowen, and the feeling of anger rose as he found her eyes. She looked in pain despite standing rigidly still. But two years knowing the immortal woman would give him enough information, that what she had gone through the past hour, was something that worried him. He was surprised (and proud) that Rowen could still look confident and passive enough to stand, her chin up and her eyes still posed at him.  
  


Larry needed to keep calm; he could not lash out at him. They needed him to free his friends. He just had to make time.  
  


Fake-Kahmunrah approached him as he spoke, "Well, well, well...you arrived just in time Mr Daley.” He held his arm out. “Now since for your little friend's sake: give me the combination of the Tablet."  
  


"Only if you let Rowen and Jed go." Larry gave him a firm response, his heart thumping against the walls of his chest. Or perhaps it was the Tablet that warmed in his hand.  
  


' _Breathe_ ,' Rebecca's voice in his head murmured.  
  


"First, give me the combination. I won't have you trick me, Mr Daley." The fake pharaoh demanded. A creepy smirk rose on his face. "You will have your precious cowboy back, but I will be keeping _Rowena Clarke_ as such."  
  


Larry's mind did a 180-degree turn.  
  


He didn't hide his horror when he gasped, "How-"  
  


"Don't," Rowen spoke loudly, who stood a few feet behind the pharaoh that evilly smiled.  
  


When Larry looked back to the man facing him, it was as if he was seeing another person. Hand caressing the top of the hourglass, the fake-Kahmunrah stared at him with dark eyes. He could have sworn the pharaoh's pupils almost glowed.  
  


Fake-Kahmunrah drawled, "I am impressed... Two _Heka_ Guardians in one room. It must be my lucky day."  
  


This was not what he expected.  
  


Returning to Rowen, who stood by the golden pile of artefacts, the fake pharaoh walked around his friend, his free hand wandering over her shoulder.  
  


He flashed a look that sent a shiver down Larry's spine. "Unfortunately, your pathetic patron hardly has the power to compare mine. Nephthys was a whiny little bitch, hardly the wife material. But Isis..."  
  


Larry was disgusted by how close the fake pharaoh was, his face leaning into her ear and whispering something which made Rowen’s body rigid. He wanted to race to her, and shove Fake-Kahmunrah to the ground.  
  


Fingers graced over her arm and slowly travelled down to Rowen's wrist; and in a swift movement, the pharaoh twisted the handcuffs into a lock which made Rowen hiss.  
  


"Hey! Stop that." Larry held his hand out, trying to get towards Rowen.  
  


But as soon as he took a step, all the soldiers changed their positions. Their weapons are drawn and pointed at him and Octavius.  
  


He pulled Rowen hard, her back now on the pharaoh's chest, shaking the hourglass on his other hand. Fake-Kahmunrah harshly spoke, "Now: tell me the code or both of them will be killed, right in front of you."  
  


Larry's felt his breath cut as he heard a grunt.  
  


Rowen gritted her teeth as she tried to kick and squirm, her body trying to push away from him. He then slowly twisted the handcuffs, even more, making her eyes shut tightly.  
  


"Stop!" He shouted.  
  


"You have five seconds to tell me the code, Nephthys' chosen!" Fake-Kahmunrah snarled, still keeping his hold with both his friends.  
  


Nephthys?  
  


Who the crap is Nephthys?  
  


Larry frantically replied, "I don't know who you're talking about!"  
  


"Five...four..."  
  


There was a click in his head.  
  


"Hey, get your hands off them!" Octavius shouted in his pocket.  
  


Rowen let out a scream, and he widened his eyes in horror. Her wrists were going white as her legs wobbled.  
  


"Three...two..."  
  


A sob echoed in the room.  
  


He could not do it.  
  


Larry squeezed his eyelids.  
  


' _I'm sorry,_ '  
  


And so, he did.  
  


The answer escaped his mouth fast than he could process it.  
  


"Pi! It's Pi..."  
  


Larry's eyes then focused onto the pharaoh’s, seeing the malice in them. His blood boiled and yet it froze, as he realised what he had done. But the screams, Rowen's face filled with pain as she was almost dangling under Fake-Kahmunrah's arm. He would never let Rowen be forced to be leverage.  
  


The pharaoh pulled an emotionless smile on his lips before letting go of Rowen. She stumbled forward, tripping over her legs until she fell just a few feet away.  
  


"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Fake-Kahmunrah spoke soothingly before scoffing back, "I don't understand how you choose these pathetic mortals. Hardly the strongest type."  
  


The hourglass flew into the air and Larry quickly tossed the Tablet at the pharaoh. He caught Jedediah just in time, making sure it was upright. He sighed in relief that his cowboy friend was okay. But he could not say any better to Rowen.  
  


"I'm sorry Jed." Shame fell in his face as well as the pit in his stomach. It was his fault. If he shut his mouth and rambled on, they would have left the museum easily in the morning. And even then, it would not have happened if he did not pay more attention to the exhibits.  
  


They counted on him.   
  


And he counted on them.  
  


Jedediah murmured back, trying to reassure him. "You did it to save Rowen, Gigantor. I would have done it too."  
  


He shook his head and replied, "No, just for everything. This, the museum-" But Larry was cut off by another moan.  
  


Glancing upwards, Larry tried to run over to Rowen, making sure she was okay. But the pharaoh knew his plans. Fake-Kahmunrah shoved the gold Tablet into her hands, unbeknownst that Larry spotted him flexing his hands with a wince.  
  


After, he lowered his head and whispered into Rowen's ear. By the wide eyes and thinned lips, Larry knew it was not good and stayed silent.  
  


His heart raced faster as Rowen, with the Tablet in her hands, approached the gate.  
  


Octavius and Jedediah protested. He could hear the cowboy banging against the glass.  
  


There, Larry watched something unfold and he was unable to do anything. Rowen stood with her back turned, struggling to place the Tablet into the slot. After a few tries, the tablet fitted onto the panel and she began pressing the numbers of the code.  
  


Halfway through, she stopped and gazed over the shoulder.  
  


Her face was blank as she looked around and saw Larry. A rush of comfort went over his body as the two caught each other's eyes as if she was trying to apologise again and again.  
  


Rowen then continued.  
  


When the last number was pressed, she stepped back.  
  


He felt something thrum around him. Nothing like he imagined or felt before. Larry inhaled as the Tablet began to glow. The door than cracked open, slowly letting out a bright light. He squinted his eyes to try and adjust to it, realising what was through.  
  


It was something he nor anyone could comprehend.   
  


The Underworld.  
  


Figures began to exit the gate, tall humanoid creatures. They wore armour around them, with spear-like weapons held on their hands - blades sharp by the glint of the light. Though despite their human bodies, their heads shocked everyone in the room. Even as Al Capone, Ivan and Napoleon began to walk over to the group of hawk-like soldiers.  
  


They began to circle him, forcing him to tuck the hourglass against his body to protect both Jedediah and Octavius.  
  


"Now, welcome to the new extended reign of Kahmunrah, ruler of the world!" He extended his arms, declaring. "Now, my warriors of Ra, come forth! Send Larry Daley to their doom!"  
  


A finger then pointed at him.  
  


One moment he was perfectly fine, the next his heart was about to burst and his face growing pale.  
  


About fifteen spears pointed at Larry's neck. ' _Shit, shit, shit! Calm down, calm down Daley! What the fuck is this! I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die. Please...please..._ ' His eyes continued to look across to where the Pharoah and Rowen were.  
  


Rowen's eyes struck in panic.  
  


But then something changed in a second.  
  


Her eyes flashed not in horror - but relief.  
  


"Stop!"  
  


A familiar voice shouted behind him. Larry did not need to turn around to know who it was as he could tell from the spark of anger from the faker.  
  


"Ahkmenrah, son of Merenkahre. You are too late!" He shouted, opening his arms out and gesturing to the gate. "Just like your mother and brother, you will watch the reign of Kahmunrah begin!"  
  


He saw the top of Ahkmenrah's head as walked around, the soldiers and other allies surveying his footsteps. No one dared to stop him to Larry's confusion as he watched the young wan give a sense of strength in his stance.  
  


The younger Pharaoh answered, his voice got bolder as the words threaded through the room. "You won't try, because you are a liar." Ahkmenrah paused, "Isn't that right..."  
  


While he spoke, Ahkmenrah made it in front of Rowen and Fake-Kahmunrah. Larry could barely see them stand in front of each other let alone not get stabbed by the spears surrounding him.  
  


But only one word escaped Ahkmenrah's mouth.  
  


"Khafre."  
  


The room grew silent.  
  


Everyone turned to the pharaoh.  
  


"Shit, what?"  
  


Larry slapped his hand over his mouth, surprised he was the first one to say even a word.  
  


Fake-Kahmunrah - now with a new name on his face - reacted in such horror and shock before giving a shit-eating grin to them. Somehow the name morphed the older-looking Pharoah into someone Larry didn't know.  
  


' ** _Beware of the usurper..._** '  
  


This was not the wax statue that they met this early evening. This was someone entirely different and the voices in his head kept warning him of the creepy guy.  
  


Next to Khafre, Rowen was gobsmacked; her jaw dropped as the realisation kicked in. Larry assumed that their resident historian knew of the name but did not put the name and face as sooner as they needed.  
  


However, this did not change things. He was still going to get killed by a bunch of chicken-headed Egyptians and he would not be able to see his son and Rebecca ever again.  
  


This _sucked_ balls.  
  


He was going to get skewered by chicken-headed soldiers.  
  


Though, that horrific moment of chanting his will and testimony backfired as he felt the ground shudder and vibrate.  
  


Entering the main hall from the corridor was the marble statue of the 16th President of the United States of America.  
  


"Abraham?!" Larry exclaimed when he spotted two other figures standing beside him. "Sacagawea! Howard!"  
  


Sacagawea and Howard held a stern pose, their faces firm as Abraham strode towards him. Then as a thought occurred and quickly dissipated: chaos ensued.  
  


This was the right time to escape.  
  


He ducked as a soldier lurched forward, tucking the hourglass under his arm. Abraham Lincoln picked up one of the soldiers like it was just a doll, studying it. The rest were too focused in the giant as Larry escaped the ring of soldiers. To their horror, Abraham tossed the soldier far across the room, where they landed on the pile of gold - squawking.  
  


Everyone was too invested on the large statue, either in awe of terror. Abraham swept the bird-soldiers off their feet until one of them barked an order.  
  


One by one: the Egyptian bird soldiers fled back into the gate.  
  


"No! No! You fools!" Khafre screeched as each one filed to enter the gate.  
  


As the last one exited, they closed the door shut and the light coming from the underworld disappeared.  
  


Larry couldn't believe it. All it took was for Abraham to give them a scare.  
  


With that, the president tipped his hat and thank Sacagawea, Howard and Ahkmenrah before hopping back down the corridor.  
  


Silence cut the awkwardness like a knife as Khafre glowered in frustration. Suddenly out of nowhere, Khafre unsheathed something that looked to be between a hoe and a sword.  
  


He held it against Rowen's neck.  
  


Everyone protested as Khafre told them: "No matter, I will start killing the one you desperately care so much!"  
  


Rowen squirmed under his hold; her eyes teary-eyed as she mouthed something to Ahkmenrah. Larry stood beside Ahkmenrah, keeping hold of Octavius and Jedediah firmly. They needed a plan to get Rowen and knock Khafre out. _He_ needed to plan.  
  


From behind once more, a tune roared from a bugle.  
  


Turning to their side, his mouth curled to a massive beam when he saw who it was.  
  


General Custer and Amelia Earhart stood beside each other. There's face matched with determination as their eyes caught the people around them. Behind them was the rest of the New York exhibits. Attila and his men had their axes out, their battle faces stern and hard. The Neanderthals held their clubs, grunting as they waited for the order. Dexter sat upon Amelia's shoulder as the overlooking shadow of the giant octopus was behind them.  
  


But there were also faces he met tonight. The Tuskegee Men and the pilots of the NASA space rocket. What was more were the statues from the gallery they asked around such as the Thinker who took a taller position at the back.  
  


His chest pumped, wanting to let out a laugh or a cry of happiness. ' _You did it, skipper,_ ' Larry said in his head, his smile resting on Amelia's. She quirked up her lips and nodded her head.  
  


General Custer yelled out.  
  


"My comrades! Let's attack!"  
  


There was a roar.  
  


Finally: the battle began.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XXIII  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

As soon as the horn blew and the backup ran ahead straight into the fray, Rowena acted in a flash.  
  


She flung her head back, hitting his nose as it let out a crack. Yelling in pain, he stumbled backwards, sending the _khopesh_ off her neck - allowing her to be free. She ducked before the edge of the blade caught her skin and ran away. She needed to find the key to unlock the handcuffs. If there was one. Rowena knew these types of things were meant to be painful for their prisoners and was not going through hell having to break her hands for this.  
  


Fighting began as she ran across the large room and scrambled up the gold pile. ' _Key, key...this looking for a needle in a haystack_ ,' She exasperated, trying to search for a silver key.  
  


While she continued looking, looking around every other second for anyone to take her out. She knew that the _wax dickwad_ did not have the key, having searched Khafre's body or any indication of a key shape hidden in his clothing. Therefore, the key should just be amongst the pile ( _if there is one_ ).  
  


Khafre. _The_ Khafre. One of the kings of the 4th Dynasty she has researched and invested her work on. And no one had expected that this was what he _actually_ appeared to be.  
  


There are too many thoughts running in her head that she forgot what she had been doing. ' _Key first, then questions later_ ,' She said to herself. _If_ they make it alive after tonight.  
  


The thought made her snap back into reality and she darted her eyes at the sound of a familiar capuchin. Right on the other side of the golden pile was Dexter and another capuchin, wearing an astronaut suit. She hobbled to the other side with a grin plastered on her face.  
  


"Dexter!" Rowena exclaimed in relief. The capuchin cooed at her before reaching his hand out. Dangling on his small finger was a silver key which seemed to be the right size. Her grin widened as she shook her head in disbelief. Out of everyone in the room, she should have expected Dexter to be heroic for once.  
  


She turned around and knelt, giving the capuchin access to her arms. The other capuchin who stood in front tilted their head to the side, giving her a curious gaze. Rowena studied the capuchin and spotted the nametag printed on the front right of the suit. "Oh hello, Able?"  
  


That earned a sound of approval.  
  


"Able then."  
  


As she felt the lock click, the torture contraptions fell off her wrists and she sighed in gratitude. Her arms were aching, but it did not match the pain from her wrists. There were marks embedded into her skin, alongside a deep cut in the sides. It was not going to look nice in the morning, so Rowena bared down her teeth. Stretching her hands a bit to let it loose, she stood and looked down at the two saviours.  
  


"Thank you so much you two." She then looked at Dexter specifically. "And perhaps I'll forgive you for taking the Tablet, _mon ami_." At that response, the two capuchins ran over into the fight - hopefully keeping each other safe.  
  


' _Okay, Rowena. Step one: locate._ ' She thought as her eyes panned the area. It appeared that everyone was busy trying to fight each other, ignoring her place on the top of the gold pile. Rowena could not find Larry, Ahkmenrah or Jedediah and Octavius. All she could do was hope they were not knocked out - or hurt.  
  


She then recounted the next step: ' _Step two: weapon_.' Cursing that damn pharaoh for finding the knife hidden in her sleeve (which indeed was from Hettie): she needed to find something else as a substitute.  
  


Rowena stopped and paused. A dagger was embedded amongst the artefacts, silver and little too fancy for her liking. There were more as she searched about, discovering another larger dagger with a sheath. She then inspected it quickly, ' _It's enough for now; let's not get fussy_.'  
  


"Emilia!"  
  


It had been a while since her reflexes were used, though it was enough for Rowena to push the gun down and let the man shoot the ground instead. A loud crackling sound echoed as the bullet burnt over the marble flooring. She swung her legs, putting him down in a series of twirls before knocking him out with the blunt side of the dagger. She glanced up, panting for a few seconds before she saw Howard looking at her in what seemed to be a mixture of shock and worry.  
  


He was so invested that the Russian soldier behind him got close for Rowena to shout back.  
  


She barked, "Carter, on your six!"  
  


Howard spun and blocked the spear aimed for his chest, using a spear that he found lying about. He struggled to gain his balanced as the soldier was better and more skilled. Before the end of the spear whipped through, Rowena slid under the soldier's body aiming her foot onto the man's kneecap. She heard a crack of bones as the soldier bawled in shock before falling onto the floor.  
  


She then locked her hand against the soldier's neck and yanked it down. With her fist, she swung it towards his face with her strength.  
  


The soldier slumped onto the floor.  
  


When she got back onto her feet, Rowena was met by a pensive look from her friend. He raised his eyebrow in disbelief, and she gave him it in return. Howard rolled his eyes before taking the musket from the body which she was glad about. The spears the Russians had were not entirely sharp enough to hurt anyone, but the musket with the bayonet was real.  
  


A hand was held in front of her and Rowena took it.  
  


Both then entered the fray, a subconscious look from each other as they kept each other's back safe. A man in tuxedo swung his fist and she parried with her hand. She gritted her teeth from the pain of her wrists as she pushed it away and kicked his stomach. The man groaned, trying to yank her down but she flipped him over her shoulder in a smooth turn - knocking him out.  
  


From behind, she noticed her friend tackling a French soldier. It only took a few more seconds before the French soldier was overthrown.  
  


"Fucking hell, Darcy!" Howard shouted over his shoulder and elbowed the French soldier. "This is Saqqara all over again!"  
  


A laugh escaped her mouth. During all this mess: he remembered the one thing they wanted to forget about.  
  


Rowena blocked another fist coming at her face. She then shoved the man away before replying with a grin, "You and I both remember Saqqara very differently!" She then eyed him and spoke, "I'm going to find Larry."  
  


With a nod of acknowledgement and reassurance, Howard gave Rowena enough time to run off and find Larry. As she dodged around the giant octopus strangling several of Al Capone's and Ivan's men, her eyes caught sight of his night guard uniform running behind the columns next to the gate. Her eyes then wandered over to the gate.  
  


And found the Tablet gone.  
  


Panic rose in her chest as she ran towards Larry. As she went around the corner, she put her arms in a defensive position - relaxing to find it was just Larry. Who was holding the Tablet? Their eyes both widened and relaxed the moment they noticed who they were - with Rowena glancing down to the artefact.  
  


"Hey, take this." Larry held out the Tablet in front of her.  
  


Rowena gave him a questionable look, which earned a pleading glance back.  
  


He murmured in her ear, "I've kind of got an idea, but we need to cut down numbers."  
  


She took the tablet into her hands and a warm feeling spread up her arms, surrounding her body. There were a small hum and a warm glow on her chest, feeling the pendant respond to the tablet. Glancing up at her friend, Rowena nodded back. "Good luck, Larry."  
  


She received a small smile from the former night guard before he zoomed back out to the main hall. Rowena wasn't sure what Larry had in mind for a plan; she could only hope that it was quick enough for her to keep the tablet safe. Maybe Larry was going to get Ahkmenrah for help? Rowena didn't even know where their friend was.  
  


' _Perhaps fighting Khafre... which is still unbelievable._ '  
  


She hid behind the column, glancing down the corridor to see it empty. As she tucked the Tablet under her arm, she held her dagger tightly. Knowing that she couldn't stay static, she began her way around the edge of the room.  
  


Suddenly, her plan was abrupted as a gun pointed at her face. Rowena stared in front of them, her chest growing cold as three figures stood in front of her.  
  


Al Capone, who smirked at her with unnerving lust, spoke: "No running now, doll."  
  


Beside him were Napoleon and Ivan, who had their weapons already aimed at her - their eyes strained over the artefact in her hand. She firmly stood her ground, her plan already in place as she kept her eyes trained at the monochromatic man.  
  


"Who are you calling doll?" She asked; innocence weaved into her tone.  
  


"Now, Madame Rowen." Ivan said cautiously, "I suggest you give the Tablet to us."  
  


' _Oh hell, you won't_.' She replied internally but continued to stare at them.  
  


"And why would we give it to you?"  
  


Rowena's eyes glanced to her right and found Amelia standing next to her.  
  


"Perhaps we should just give it to their leader." Another voice calmly spoke.  
  


On the left, Sacagawea drew her bow back, aiming right and ready at the heads of the men in front.  
  


Al Capone was the first to move, his finger moving in that time. Rowena immediately twisted his wrist, whacking the gun off his hand before kicking the gun out of his reach. He growled in anger, using his other fist to swing at her gut.  
  


She grunted. Air knocked was knocked out her stomach as she twisted her dagger out and stabbed his hand.  
  


He roared in pain and quickly drew his hand back. There was not any blood but the wax figure, which disturbed her for a second.  
  


At that moment, she forgot who was next to her until Amelia shouted her name. She quickly turned around and used the tablet to hit Napoleon's dagger away. He roared in pain, and she gaped at what appeared on his hand.  
  


A black mark crawled up his hand, the same place which the Tablet touched his skin.  
  


The pilot then took that time to kick Napoleon from the back, sending him staggering onto his backside.  
  


Rowena then returned to Al Capone's attention, and threw another punch. She ducked it, luckily due to her height, and yelled at Amelia - tossing the Tablet with no haste at her. Amelia caught it easily in her hand, giving her more hands to clamber up Al Capone.  
  


Rowena straddled his shoulders, squeezing her thighs over his neck. He gasped loudly, trying to pry her off him. With her body, she took his head into her hands and pulled it back, leaning her body to keep him from bending forwards.  
  


As she was about to strike her elbow down, he caught her other hand in tandem and tried to swing her over his shoulder. Her dagger clattered onto the floor and Rowena quickly wrapped her free arm around his neck. Al Capone choked, coughing and spluttering before his eyes rolled onto the back of his head.  
  


His legs wobbled and she leaned forward as Al Capone fell face-first onto the ground with a thump. Unconscious.  
  


Rowena exhaled the breath she held throughout it and stared at the man below her. She stood up and glanced around. Sacagawea parried with her bow, but not for long as it fell onto the floor. Ivan locked her by the neck using his spear as Rowena ran towards her - grabbing the dagger on the way.  
  


However, the Native American woman headbutted Ivan, elbowing his gut before swinging a punch at his face. He crippled back, and his head hit against the medieval metal armour in a clang. From that: Ivan the terrible just got bested by Sacagawea.  
  


Rowena gaped at the two women in front of her and felt pride rise upon her chest. The pilot gave her the tablet once more, hands on her hips as they looked at each other with smiles. Before they went back to help their friends, Rowena said to them, "Thanks, girls."  
  


Sacagawea nodded at her whilst Amelia passed her bow back. The three somehow did not need to tell each other verbally what they needed to do; so, they entered the conflict once more.   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Jedediah II  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

He was thrown out of Larry's hand as soon as the pharaoh shoved the former night guard to the side. Jedediah clamped his mouth, not wanting to choke on the sand again falling through and he tried to duck his head for safety. The world around him blurred as the casing twirled into the air.  
  


Seconds, minutes: it felt like a long time until he jerked forward. The hourglass landed upright (which he gladly thanked god for), sat up what seemed to be the edge of the golden pile of artefacts. From this view, he could see the whole battle unfold. Attila and the Huns were taking down the Russian soldiers. The famous axe hacking one of the soldier's arm off in one slice.  
  


He then spotted his men. The familiar brown hats and spurred boots as they charged towards the men in fancy black shoes and began stabbing them with their swords. Roman soldiers mixed with them while he tried to find the familiar figure that had kept in his mind.  
  


Just at the right moment: there he was.  
  


Octavius, running up over artefacts and golden junk - his eyes only at him and only him.  
  


He felt his heart lurch forward, his chest heaving as his whole body froze in place. Jedediah wasn't sure why he felt like he hadn't seen him for years even though it had only been two hours since their departure. How the general's eyes were wide in both relief and happiness, making it harder for him to breathe in this sand prison.  
  


Time was almost over, and Octavius was going to watch him die. He couldn't do that to him.  
  


"Jedediah!" He cried out, his eyes glimmering under the light. "I thought I almost lost you!"  
  


A hand stretched out towards him, reaching as far as he could go. When his fingers touched the glass, he cursed for the barrier between them.  
  


"I ain't gonna make it! Afraid this cowboy's been to his last hoedown." Jedediah panted, struggling to keep his composure. "Octavius, I need to tell you something-"  
  


Shaking his head, Octavius cut him off, "No need for final words."  
  


"No! I'm not finished." He cried and gulped back. With a breath, Jedediah began: "I want to tell you the story of our relationship from enemy to friends...to something more than friends."  
  


There was a change in his face, and Octavius contorted to gaze at him with surprise.  
  


Panic began to rise in him. Did he not feel the same way as he did?  
  


Instead, Octavius exclaimed back, "No! Not another word." He ripped his helmet off his head.  
  


"Because you are going to live!"  
  


Suddenly, the helmet slammed into the wall creating a large crack on the glass.  
  


Jedediah's jaw slacked as he watched the general - his general - continue to cry in anger as he hit the wall more.  
  


Then: the glass shattered, he yelped out as the sand poured out of his prison. Jedediah scrambled out, getting up at quickly as he could. Brushing off the sand, he took that time to stare with a heavily beating heart.  
  


Jedediah shook his head in disbelief, "You lunatic gonzo..."  
  


How irony made him do something equally crazy.  
  


Striding up to him, he leaned his face and closed the gap between their lips. His hand came up to his neck, cradling Octavius' face.  
  


Jedediah had never felt anything so lively. It was dynamite, exploding into a million pieces as the heat surged throughout his body.  
  


When he pulled back, he found Octavius wide-eyed and he quickly regretted what he had done, "Shit, I'm sorry-"  
  


He was then cut off by another kiss. This time, it was quick and light - almost sweet and soft. Unlike the passion that he threw over.  
  


"No, I think that perfectly defines what we've been needing." Octavius coughed back, cheeks reddening. He then gave him a grin which sent chills in Jedediah. Passing him a spare sword, his general quipped, "Now, let's go to work."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah VI  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

Ahkmenrah only had eyes for one person - and that was the man in front of him.  
  


A scowl lined Khafre's face, as they stood metres apart. The gold plated khopesh held by the hilt. For something as a simple artefact, it appeared to be sharp as he spotted the shine on the bladed end.  
  


Khafre preferred the khopesh more than any other of his brothers. He remembered the man constantly bragging about his collection of khopeshes during their time in court before Ahkmenrah left to aid to protect the Sinai from their invaders. How the man would show his skills in the training grounds, the women more afraid of his brash actions than what he could do.  
  


But he could not deny that Khafre was better than him in close combat. Ahkmenrah had training, yes. But that was thousands of years ago. The only opponent he has had that time was his parents, who kept him back so he wouldn't get hurt.  
  


This did not help when he held a sword that was unfamiliar to him. Not like his own swords and bow.  
  


They danced an art that kept him alive in many battles. Though it didn't take long until the sound of metals clashing occurred between the two of them and his heart began to pump faster. They slashed and block, never seeming to get any closer.  
  


"Enough Khafre! No more speeches. Anything that comes out of your mouth is poison." He growled back. Taunting him has always made him lose against Kahmunrah. "You are a liar and a king slayer! All of your family are!"  
  


Khafre only cackled, blocking another one of his jabs. "Ha! My father was the greatest pharaoh who ever lived in history! People worship his work, just look at his work!"  
  


Blocking his own by the side of his ribs, Ahkmenrah replied: "The pyramids were my grandfather and father's work! You stole our work, destroyed our identity. Because your father was a traitor-"  
  


"Your family was weak!" The pretender answered, hitting him again before being blocked. "Afraid to dabble with the honour of the gods. The gift of power and immortality."  
  


He argued, "We were chosen to protect from the likes of you. Not against the world."  
  


"Ha...Poetic. Three guardians. It is my lucky night." Khafre spoke, blocking his next swing. "And what's more poetic is the Guardian of the Tablet falling for the Guardian of the Wadjet. Just like his brother."  
  


Ahkmenrah slashed back with anger, "Don't ever speak of my brother that way-"  
  


He was then cut off as his sword flew out of his hand. Pain surged up his hand and onto his arm as if he had doused himself in flames. Ahkmenrah looked back at Khafre to see him grin.  
  


"He fell in love with a guardian. And where is he now?" He taunted and then turned his tone around. "Dead. No Body. No tomb. Your family was forgotten, ripped from history."  
  


Khafre then hit him straight ahead.  
  


He winced as he toppled over his knees, clutching his stomach and arm at the same time. He rolled onto his back and tried to crawl back up but to no avail. A foot came at his face, smacking over his cheek. That had stung a lot and his vision blurred.  
  


"He was weak and a fool! He didn't deserve the blessing of Khonsu' artefact!" Khafre snarled and grabbed his weakened arm, pinning him down. "For now, I shall take his name as my own and make the world forget about you, Ahkmenrah."  
  


Khafre grin widened as the blade began to press tightly against his.  
  


"It will be a pleasure to kill you once more," Khafre spoke, a disturbing mix of pleasure and malice.  
  


Ahkmenrah stayed still, his eyes trained over him. Panic began to rise as the struggled against his hold, trying to stretch for his weapon. He could hear his ears ringing, the sound of the cries and shouts diminishing as everything was focused onto just him and the pharaoh. His chest heaved, taking deep pants from the air left in his lungs. This was his last moments, and maybe in those last seconds, a voice began to echo into his head.  
  


' ** _Stand, young king._** '  
  


A deep quiet voice spoke. But the man above him didn't move his mouth.  
  


' ** _You are more than what you are..._** '  
  


Khafre raised his blade up as far as he could.  
  


He shut his eyes, a moment to imagine the picture of his brother, his parents. Rowen and Larry; the exhibits...  
  


' _I'm sorry_ ,'  
  


But the blow didn't come.  
  


Ahkmenrah opened his eyes and they widened even more.  
  


Larry growled, "Not on my watch, you're not."  
  


He rolled over to the side, slipping his sword back into his hand as he knelt up in surprise. Blocked with just a torch, Larry Daley stood against Khafre. An unyielding expression on his face as he blocked the pretender's swings.  
  


Though despite Larry saving him, it didn't take long for the former nightguard to begin to weaken. He rushed to aid his friend, running up to flank Khafre at the side with his sword. Blocking it with less power, Khafre became aggressive and erratic at his swings, his footwork almost lacking as Larry twisted his khopesh.  
  


At that moment, Ahkmenrah paused at paused to eye the weapon flying across the room. It landed onto the floor with a clattering noise - ending in silence. He blinked several times before realising what Larry had just done. Though his thoughts were cut as a snarl came out of the khopesh owner, tackling Larry to the ground.  
  


A gasp would have escaped his mouth hadn't he swung his sword at Khafre, hitting the blunt side on his back. Khafre grunted, before kicking Larry in the gut and sending him onto the floor. Ahkmenrah stared at Larry, whose eyes were shut to tightly as he silently curled himself onto his body.  
  


He returned his attention to the pretender, gritting his teeth as the anger boiled once more. Ahkmenrah wasn't going to let any of his family get hurt no longer.  
  


Just as he took his blade, ready to impale the sword into Khafre's chest - a figure appeared and swooped over to Khafre.  
  


Rowen took Khafre's arm and yanked it out, holding it in place as she did a series of movies. It was like watching a dance, beautiful and yet daunting as she spun around him with speed and grace. She kicked and swung a dagger, enough to graze him as he slowly fell to the floor until he was about to hold his hands up in surrender.  
  


She then paused, her knife inches from Khafre's head. Ahkmenrah then felt something come to him, a sense of emptiness as an unsettling pit formed in his stomach. Was Rowen going to do it? Kill Khafre?  
  


Somehow in the back of his head, he was screaming for her. Telling her to stop and to think.  
  


Is this who she really was? A killer?  
  


Ahkmenrah looked to his side and held his hand out to his fallen friend. Thanking him with a nod, Larry hauled himself up and the two approached Rowen and Khafre. Behind the two was the gate, wide-open with the light bathing them in front.  
  


He realised what they had meant to do and sucked in his breath.  
  


Rowen struggled to pull Khafre up, his arms tied by her own hands and nudged her head to his direction. He followed suit, keeping the pretender in a grasp as he thrashed for a while. Soon, Khafre realised there was no escaped and paused.  
  


Ahkmenrah then saw something change in the man's eyes.  
  


It wasn't the dark looming pupils that he saw during his duel. There was fear in them, something which made a small inch in Ahkmenrah's mind to stop himself from moving forward to the gate.  
  


But Khafre stayed quiet during the process, his head kept high. Amelia, Howard, Larry and Sacagawea stood on either side of the gate, watching with placid expressions.  
  


The pretender then stopped and turned to them, "They will come and find you. My grasp under this mortal is dwindling."  
  


It wasn't Khafre's voice that was coming out of his mouth, which sent a shiver down Ahkmenrah’s spine.  
  


Khafre continued, "But I will return. And I will come for you all: Rowena Clarke, Larry Daley and Ahkmenrah!"  
  


Gazing back to Rowen, she could only stare back at Khafre before turning his body to face them - his back against the opening.  
  


The last words came out in his native tongue from his mouth.  
  


" ** _The end will come, Isis_** _._ "  
  


Rowen paused for a bit and then answered calmly.  
  


" ** _Enjoy the underworld, Khafre_** _._ "  
  


Letting go of his grasp of the pharaoh, he watched Rowen push Khafre into the gate. His figure disappeared, enveloped by the light. As his screams quietened, Ahkmenrah saw Larry and Amelia push the door closed. It was then he exhaled.  
  


They had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm sorry I missed the update day yesterday! I was using the sun and heat to cool down by the beach and spending time with my family.
> 
> But it doesn't mean it stopped me from giving you an extra-long chapter which has to be one of my favourite scenes in the second movie, but with some twists and the duel we deserved between the women of NATM and the villains of this movie.
> 
> And FINALLY, we get the name bomb after nine chapters. Khafre is indeed a real pharaoh at the time of the 4th Dynasty who came third in the reign after Khufu. He succeeded his brother Djedefre and did quite a lot which includes the pyramids. However, for the purposes of the story, I am going to change some things with facts and make this all a bit more dramatic.
> 
> I also loved doing the women action scene. Inspired by the Black Widow fighting style, Rowena uses a mixture of martial arts and just basic wrestling and kickboxing (which will be explained much further into the story).
> 
> And also Jedediah and Octavius finally getting some moment which I was bound to put it. Couldn't really resist a kiss before they fight.
> 
> And more lore about the trio (Larry, Rowena and Ahk). Man, there is just too much to put in this.
> 
> Hope you guys have a wonderful day/evening/night. :)
> 
> [Edited 10/2020]: Just editing some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	27. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Battle, Rowena and Larry make a decision to save their exhibit friends. Rowena and Howard share a moment before sunrise and Larry confesses his thoughts to Rebecca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mer Ek - Love in Ancient Egyptian [But for the sake of this Story, it means My Love]
> 
> Amicus Meus - Masc. Version of My Friend/My Love in Latin
> 
> Heka - Magic in Ancient Egyptian
> 
> Khopesh - a curved sword

** Rowena XXIV  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

It took her a minute to realise that she stumbled backwards as soon as the gate closed in front of her. The room blurred as she tilted her head back, her eyes beginning to roll back as she tried to keep her feet firm.  
  


She could hear the daggers hit the marble surface.  
  


"Rowen!"  
  


As her legs tangled over each other, she tripped up and tried to find the floor with her hands. Though, when she expected the hard-cold floor, Rowena felt something clasp around her arms. A hand cradled her head as they slowly laid her down onto the ground, callous and warm at her touch.  
  


She could barely see who it was, only spotting flecks of brown and black amongst the brick ceiling. The hanging lights blinded her, and she squinted her eyes. She wanted to stay awake, to make sure that the others were alright.  
  


But a fire soared up her arms, burning internally as she gritted her teeth from screaming. Rowena couldn't twitch a single finger at all, afraid to make it worse. If Rowena could see the outcome, she could imagine the red everywhere. Her sleeves, shirt and skin.  
  


Red.  
  


Blood.  
  


Her blood.  
  


She hasn't seen that much blood since...since Peggy's death...  
  


The smell of the hospital, alcohol and disinfectant.  
  


The sound of machines beeping and the murmurs of doctors and nurses surrounding her dying daughter.  
  


"Rowen, please."  
  


As the noise cut off from her ears, brown eyes began to appear above her.  
  


Staring down at her was Ahkmenrah, whose mouth parted as he continued to speak back to her. However, nothing seemed to come out - or perhaps the ringing in her ears was preventing Rowena to hear him entirely.  
  


His voice wavered, matching how his hands shook when he cupped her cheeks. "Stay awake **_mer ek_**..."  
  


A finger traced over her cheek, and it sent chills in every place it touched. Her chest was pounding, faster as Ahkmenrah tucked her in closer to his chest.  
  


"It's fine...it's fine." She stifled back a groan when she trailed off, "Just lost a lot of blood."  
  


Rowena didn't notice another shadow loom over her on the side. Though by the sound of their gasp, she recognised it coming from their former night guard.  
  


He spoke, "I'll say. Your hands practically bloodied up." Larry insisted as he heaved himself up. "I'll go find a first aid kit."  
  


She saw the shadow disappear from her sight and found another one stand over her. This time, she realised it to be Howard, who then knelt closer to her hands. Her friend's presence didn't stop her ignorance at seeing Ahkmenrah pool of emotions almost wanting to blurt out from his mouth.  
  


Rowena knew what was coming and said, "Ahk?"  
  


"What were you thinking? Fighting him?"  
  


He was trying to fight against speaking harshly but failed. There was also something else, disappointment and worry as Ahkmenrah answered, "You knew you were hurt, and you still tried-"  
  


"I could say the same with you, _amicus meus_." She choked out a laugh as she muttered back, "I'll have to think carefully when you fight again."  
  


Waiting for his response, Rowena hoped that what she said would cool his temper. She saw how he could fight, how he used a sword that was from another era with such precision and ease. How well he could best Khafre in a duel. But she also felt a deeper fear beneath all of it. His emotions drove his actions and there was something in the pit of her mind telling her that it was something she did not know well of.  
  


Fighting for her was for survival. What she saw in him was fighting for vengeance.  
  


Luckily, her quiet pondering let Ahkmenrah see the playful manner she had. In that time, a small smile formed on his face.  
  


"I am a bit rusty," Ahkmenrah admitted.  
  


Rowena's line of sight got better after her breath returned. She glanced to the side and saw the trio with a smile, "Sacagawea, Howard, Amelia." She called out, "Thanks back there again."  
  


Amelia nodded back; a small smile edged on her lips whilst Howard shook his head in disbelief. On the other hand, Sacagawea only nodded back before spotting something in front of them.  
  


Larry came back, with Dexter and Able, with a first aid kit. He passed to Sacagawea's hands to which the native American woman sat down with and opened it up by Rowena's head.  
  


When Rowena suggested for him to help clean everything up, he tightened his grip around her, making her breath cut. Her heart skipped a beat. They have hugged plenty of times, but the feeling of being cradled was entirely different.  
  


"Sacagawea will do it, Ahk. Don't worry." She tried to move her hand up to his cheek. A hiss escaped her mouth as she tried to move them.  
  


Ahkmenrah still didn't seem convinced.  
  


But Sacagawea gave him one little mental push as she said, "Why don't you three go and help the others out with clean up. We've got several more hours until sunrise."  
  


Finally, Ahkmenrah sighed before placing her down onto the floor. She thanked him and Howard for propping her head with what seemed to be her jacket. Ahkmenrah glanced over his shoulder, from where she could see her old friend place a hand on his shoulder. Rowena could only thank Howard for keeping composed. She remembered how disgruntled he was the first time round she got hurt.  
  


Larry and Amelia left to begin directing the exhibits to clean up the unconscious statues whilst Howard and Ahkmenrah began helping to lug the bodies down to the archives. As much as she wanted to help, Rowena knew all her friends would rather have her tied up to just stop herself from moving.  
  


' _Even if I spent a whole hour standing around doing absolutely nothing_.' She complained to herself. ' _I'm still forced to do it even if that wax dickwad's gone_.'  
  


Sacagawea was cleaning her cuts before wrapping them up with clean bandages - careful and precise.  
  


Rowena gave her a tired smile. "Thank you, he would have coddled me until sunrise. With Howard here: it's going to be a bunch of mothers tending to their baby." She rolled her eyes, hearing a small chuckle from her friend.  
  


"You are not a baby, but they care for you very much." Sacagawea gazed at her, warmth in her voice. "We all do, Rowen."  
  


She could not help but let out a sob, or a laugh. Rowena wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was from all emotions from tonight and the past few months, coming out in the most unwanted time. She could only be glad that Sacagawea was here to keep her company.  
  


Even from all of that had happened, Rowena knew no one could come out the same after what they have been through. What they have discovered.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The clean-up of the Smithsonian was harder to conduct than the battle itself.  
  


Most of the wax statues which sided with Khafre were displayed in the Castle Museum, dotted in the smaller corridors before the main hall. Larry planned to have them tied up until they wake up before sunrise. Most of the men that were 'dead' seemed to just be unconscious - which still crept the only two live people. So, when they did wake up, they will be given a choice to comply or sit tied up until sunrise.  
  


That was met by many pleads and left only a few being too darn stubborn.  
  


Much like the trio that was bested by Rowena, Amelia and Sacagawea. Ivan the Terrible was persuading Larry to untie him, sometimes slipping into Russian whereas Al Capone would rather put a hole in all their heads. Rowena was thankful that everybody agreed to keep him tied up whilst the rest of his men were allowed free roam.  
  


As for Napoleon Bonaparte, the French General was still in her head. She remembered the odd markings the Tablet did to his hands and wanted to see what they were. All it took for her to show his hands were to untie him and he showed the black marking.  
  


Ahkmenrah shook his head, telling her that he did not know the Tablet having this sort of property. This sent Rowena already more curious of the whole ordeal. From all her time at Cambridge, Ahkmenrah rarely spoke about the Tablet other than keeping his family alive. And his family rarely spoke to her at all.  
  


Maybe Khafre was right. They didn't know the extent of the Tablet's capabilities.  
  


And that worried Rowena.  
  


Speaking of the Tablet: Larry, Rowena and the New York exhibits were having a break back in the main hall of the Castle Museum.  
  


Larry broke the conversation about 'kicking Khafre's ass' (in Jedediah's words) and said, "What's our plan? You know the Tablet can't stay here for too long."  
  


Everyone turned to her first.  
  


Therefore, Rowena replied. "Larry, why don't you take it back?" She cocked her head upwards and pointed at his watch. "You have a meeting tomorrow so I'm sure hiding it in a bag won't be that bad. Amelia, you could fly him back?"  
  


The pilot let out an approving hum and said that she would happily take him and the Tablet back to New York before sunrise.  
  


As for Larry, who now sported a frown, said: "What about the others? Surely they should come back as well?"  
  


He was right. There was a possibility that the exhibits could come home tonight if Amelia didn't mind taking them back to New York. But there were so many issues with it, mostly the fact that Dr Atkins and the other staff of the Smithsonian would turn to her and ask where the exhibits were. She could not jeopardise the American Museum of Natural History.  
  


Even then, it might make things more complicated.  
  


"The Smithsonian will wonder where they are." She exhaled and then blatantly said, "I'm going to ship you all home after sunrise."  
  


All the exhibits had a look of astonishment.  
  


"But Gigantress, they don't want us back there." Jedediah retorted. He did not appear to be convinced by what she answered. "What's the point."  
  


Rowena turned to her cowboy friend and gave him a stern look. He masked a feeling of security. He didn't want to believe what she promised them, after so many years being trapped by night guards and then taken care by Larry and herself in the past three years. She understood his trust issues. It reminded her much like her younger self when the first hundred years was nothing but hidden by distrust and betrayal.  
  


When she panned her eyes around to the rest of the exhibits, she let out a ragged sigh.  
  


"My point is that you are all going home, whether the board likes it or not." Rowena spoke confidently, "I will discuss things with Richard and Dr Campbell about altering the plans of the museum. But until then, I'm not having you far away from home for so long."  
  


There was a moment of murmurs.  
  


"Really?"  
  


A rarity that out of everyone, the Hun in question spoke back in English.  
  


The hope in his eyes made Rowena sincerely answer, "I mean it this time, Attila."  
  


A loud cheer broke out, and many of the exhibits thanked Larry and her for their promise. She glanced over to Howard and Amelia, who shared the same sentiment as of the others. Sacagawea bore tears in her cheeks, wiping them softly as she mouthed thank you to Rowena.  
  


"Thank you, Rowen. On behalf of us all." Octavius bowed in front of her, before declaring their return home to his soldiers.  
  


She felt a pat on her shoulder and Larry smiled back. It was time for them to go back home.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Khafre," She spoke aloud.  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced down to her. They were standing in front of the Gate of Kahmunrah once more, using their hours of the night studying the gate. It had been half a century ago since Rowena last saw this. The very first things that were sent to America after the expedition. The gate was not entirely analysed then, so she never got the chance to fully delve inside its carvings - only saw photographs of them during her time.  
  


Now it was here in the flesh...or rather stone. The Tablet fitted perfectly into the slot, perched onto a carved silhouette of a person. Ahkmenrah told her that the gate was commissioned just as his brother was coronated, allowing them to use the gate as of means for something he did not know.  
  


They could only guess Merenkahre and Shepseheret knew more of it.  
  


But the topic changed to the man they just pushed into the gate when Rowena said his name.  
  


"He was close. His family was close to ours and his father was an advisor to him." He explained to her. "He hasn't changed at all from the past four thousand years."  
  


The sarcastic tone made her snort in agreement. Rowena then sighed, slightly annoyed at the outcome of the issue. "I am surprised. Every historian said that their family was successful and prosperous. That includes me, unfortunately." She paused. "I assume deception is only one of the many things they have done to your family."  
  


"You don't know the extent of their influence during their reign." Ahkmenrah shook his head. "I should have suspected it."  
  


She flashed him a warning look. "Don't be harsh on yourself." Rowena lowered her voice. "No one ever knows it really. I'm only glad that you're okay."  
  


He turned to her at his side and replied, "And I to you too, Rowen."  
  


"Ahk, I understand it may be the wrong time to discuss this." She began, eager to let her curiosity get to her. "But I want to ask: did you know what he meant about _Heka Guardians_?"  
  


He pondered for a few seconds. "No... not that I'm aware of. They were stories when I was a child but that was it." Ahkmenrah asked back, "What did he say?"  
  


"Something about Nephthys-"  
  


Rowena began explaining what had happened until she cut herself off.  
  


The sound of shoes clicked onto the floor, making her and Ahkmenrah turn around to find the former night guard - back into his normal clothes and his small luggage with him.  
  


Larry said, "I'm just about to go." He added, "Are you sure they can't come?"  
  


Admired by Larry's concern, Rowena reassured him: "They will be fine when I'm here." She japed, "I'll drive the truck myself if you need me to."  
  


"Oh, Rowen." Ahkmenrah changed the subject. He drawled, "Larry's been-"  
  


Larry's eyes narrowed and said, "No, don't."  
  


"I think the word _cheating_ is the correct term."  
  


If she were the one who held the Tablet - it would already be on the floor.  
  


Rowena blinked and answered, "Pardon?"  
  


His eyes widened and held his hands out and crossed them, "No! It's not what you think-"  
  


"It's true! Gigantor's been right all naughty."  
  


Sitting carefully on Attila's hat, Jedediah exclaimed whilst Octavius made a sound of agreement. It seemed their shouting caught the other exhibits' attentions. Whilst the French and Russian soldiers were placing back the gold artefacts where they were stored, the others were exploring. Though the New York exhibits wanted to stay together.  
  


"I had full pocket visual," Octavius professed.  
  


She questioned him back, "You watched them and didn't say anything?"  
  


"What was I supposed to do?" He argued.  
  


Jedediah countered, "Hit him in the head might have done it!"  
  


"If Rebecca discovers you've been uh..." Ahkmenrah trailed off, unsure on how to explain.  
  


"Okay, I get it!" Larry exasperated and rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm just...it's been a long night...and a few days."  
  


She plainly answered, "And it took you just an hour to change."  
  


The man in the centre of the conversation sighed and continued, "Just think of the fact that we _almost_ unleashed a mad man wanting to seek world domination and not-uh...this thing."  
  


She then heard beside her, Ahkmenrah, give Larry a piece of advice - sending her almost facepalming. "Love is an interesting concept, we won't judge you, Larry."  
  


All Larry could do was groan.  
  


"And you're human. Things like this happen." Octavius added, which earned him a scowl from the night guard.  
  


"I hate you all."  
  


"No, you don't," Jedediah replied in a song-like tone.  
  


"I saved your asses tonight and _this_ is what I get." He sighed again. "Fine. I'll explain to Rebecca what happened. Plus, I already resolved it with Amelia."  
  


Rowena shook her head but never getting rid of the grin off her face. "I don't even know how I'm going to explain all of this mess let alone your...love issue." She turned and narrowed her eyes at the two miniatures. "Speaking of love, don't you two hide that smile."  
  


Both Jedediah and Octavius slid a step away, their faces going red in three seconds after everyone looked up at Attila in many different faces. She could tell that Sacagawea knew already, though perhaps it was because they were discussing it several months back.  
  


Romance was something she had a key eye on, though she could tell easily from those she knew quite close. And from her view, Rowena could tell the two already shared that moment she, Ahkmenrah and Larry had been talking about.  
  


Speaking of Larry again...  
  


"Aw man!"  
  


She held out her hand, to which Larry placed the ten dollars from his wallet. As for the pharaoh, he simply shook his head in disbelief and gave Larry an equal look of annoyance. Rowena could only feel proud of being correct this time.  
  


Jedediah was startled, "Wait, you've been betting on us?"  
  


"For quite a while, actually." Ahkmenrah replied, "It appears I owe you a song, Rowen."  
  


"Wait what was the bet?" Octavius asked.  
  


"Something on the lines of during danger or end of the world scenario. The two of you will finally realise you both like each other."  
  


Rowena answered, trying to remember what she had betted on. The three of them were in her office that evening with Rebecca. Three out of four of them were pretty much drunk off their rockers and chatting about various things. Somehow it ended with both Rebecca and Rowena betting that Jedediah and Octavius would get together in a specific situation.  
  


"You've got a whole other side of you, Gigantress." Jedediah was impressed. "I like it."  
  


Their conversation died down for a while when she insisted Larry and Amelia to go. She knew it would be an hour to get there and an hour to get back, giving them some allowance before the sun would reach Washington. So, Larry said his farewells to the Smithsonian exhibits, thanking General Custer and Howard for helping. The New York exhibits wished them safe travels before he made it to Rowena.  
  


He hugged her tightly, muttering over her shoulder. "Keep them safe, will you?"  
  


"I will Larry Daley," Rowena replied and she grinned at him. "Thank you again, my friend."  
  


Larry smiled down at her, "Thank you, Ro, for not giving up on me again, too."   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

When Larry and Amelia left to go back to New York, they continued to sort the museum out before opening. The only issue left was the security cameras which she could only thank the decoders from the Federal Archives. With the aid of Nick through the phone and several Neanderthals 'accidentally' breaking them, it was enough to make sure none of the staff would notice.  
  


Rowena only hoped the giant octopus would come out of the fountain before sunrise.  
  


And for Abraham Lincoln to return to his chair.  
  


Everything calmed down eventually, which she expected for the museum to do after their first night. The New York exhibits were spending the last time exploring after she ushered Ahkmenrah and the miniatures that she was fine. Her arms weren't as bad. Maybe another two days and it will completely disappear. Like most of her minor injuries.  
  


That did not stop Howard Carter approaching her with a worried expression.  
  


He spoke, "Don't you ever do that again, please?"  
  


"Never, Howard. I'm here - alive." Rowena assured him.  
  


"Good. That's the right thing." He took a deep breath and continued, "I can't believe this. Coming back to life, in my younger body, having an adventure with a pharaoh. Imagine if King Tutankhamen was here. A terrible idea if I think about it."  
  


A small chuckle escaped her mouth and she said amusedly, "If Robert was here...he and Larry would have sorted this whole thing out in three seconds."  
  


"That is true, though not without insulting Khafre. Hell, they really destroyed his family line. All of our work...how do we fix something like this?" Howard gestured around him, to which they stood in front of the Castle Museum entrance.  
  


Rowena quietly thought about what he said. They were historians, specifically ones who have experienced archaeology. They relied on evidence, on the artefacts that they dig up to prove the words that humans spoke of. But to believe that all their resources were possibly altered made her heart grow cold thinking about it.  
  


Khafre and his family changed history, and they did not even realise. Rowena had confronted something like this. Like the temples in Karnak with Akhenaten's reign. But with no true evidence other than stories and an intact temple, how was it possible?  
  


Sighing, Rowena said to Howard: "It's best to discuss this another time."  
  


She paused and thought of an idea, "Why don't you come with them tomorrow? I can issue you to be moved and you can come and join the Egyptian exhibit. You and Ahk seem to be getting along."  
  


To what she hoped to see a sign of willing was instead a sign of reluctance. Howard shook his head and gave her a sad smile.  
  


"Emilia, you know I can't." He murmured, "I'll spend the rest of the night with you. But you must understand this isn't fair. For me...for Edmund...for Evelyn."  
  


Rowena tried to fight back her tears as her eyes began to sting. Her heart ached beneath her chest as she processed what he had said.  
  


"...These past few decades. I lost a lot of people. More than what you think. I had to hear Robert's passing through phone and I wasn't there in those last days..." She answered with a quiet cry. "I can't help but maybe be selfish for once."  
  


With the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes. Soon she was encased around his arms. Rowena tilted her head upwards to find his own eyes watery.  
  


"Don't cry for me, Emilia Darcy." Howard comforted. "For your tears are not worth for this old man."  
  


He wiped the tear off her cheek, smiling down to her.  
  


Howard continued, "And we will be waiting for you. May it be in days, or years or eternity. Love extends beyond one life. It has no boundaries, and I know that you can find a family worth the same as us here."  
  


Burying her head into his chest, Rowena and Howard stayed there. Grasping each other for the last few moments of their time. All the things she had wanted to say, had she made it London just days before he passed onto the unknown.  
  


However, time was of the essence. And despite the night, they've been through, Rowena could only be happy to see one of the few people she loved to be back just for one moment.  
  


"Thank you for just being down here." She muttered under his clothes. "Even if it was just this time. I think I needed it. To just see you again."  
  


"I know. I love you, little sister." Howard whispered, "My best friend. Keep my family safe."  
  


He knew who he was referring to. Even if she hadn’t seen her best friend’s son in decades, Edmund Carter was still living to this day. Though perhaps his passing might begin to near, and they both knew well she would be losing another part of Emilia Darcy’s life.  
  


But she accepted it. Not by choice but the willingness to continue forward. Howard was right, he could not stay alive despite her own selfish needs to have someone so dear to him close. However, Rowena would be stopping her best friend from being with the love he lost many years ago.  
  


The lovely Evelyn. Who had won Carter’s heart and soul.  
  


But their love had never been able to keep them together.  
  


Rowena smiled in her mind. She can imagine Howard and Evelyn reuniting in the afterlife (or some form of world beyond death). With perhaps Edmund at some point. She would keep watch of their family. Like Edmund’s children…and their own children. Like Leslie.  
  


Stepping out from his embrace, Rowena spoke louder with a croaky voice, "I will, Howard." She added, "Say hello to Robert and her for me?"  
  


“I will.” A small smile rested on his lips as he waved off, preparing to head down to the Archives for the final time. "Goodbye, Emilia Darcy."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXI  
  
**

**_2009 - Washington D.C  
  
_ **

Flying over the United States America with Amelia Earhart would have to be the most exhilarating thing he has ever done.  
  


It wasn't as comfortable as the usual airline in the modern world, but it was something not everyone would experience. How the engine roared and the feeling of the red plane soaring through the air had him off the edge of his seat as Amelia piloted.  
  


Luckily the road was empty as she landed them right in front of the American Museum of Natural History. Once the engine dulled down, the two of them exited the plane. Larry glanced up to the museum. The silence creeped him out after so many nights with the Tablet here. He wondered if the others were alright at the Smithsonian.  
  


As they walked down to the curb, they stopped before the steps up to the main entrance.  
  


"The young pharaoh, Ahkmenrah. Him and Rowen..." The pilot wondered, quirking a brow. "Are they...?"  
  


He let out a quiet laugh, earning a pleasing tone from Amelia.  
  


"Oh yeah, even if they don't say it," Larry replied, grinning at the thought of those two. "I don't even understand it as well. But they're...they're my friends, you know? I want to help."  
  


He fiddled with the panels of the golden Tablet as he spoke. For Larry, seeing the two constantly together always gave him the reason to smile - whether explicitly or in his thoughts. He saw the friendship that had mended for years, built by the times they spent around the museum or even outside. How they're friendship transcended over fifty-four years.  
  


Now, what happened this night some elevated some buried feelings which both Ahkmenrah and Rowen bore. The only context behind these said feelings could only be said if the two would actually have space and mind to admit to each other.  
  


It wasn't that Larry was a hopeless romantic or of any kind. Yes: he married young and divorced just after Nick was old enough to understand some of the issues. There was still a part of him that still cared for Erica despite moving on. That was what he could only ask for, which he was happy that it happened - and he experienced what their relationship gave him in turn.  
  


Though watching his friends revolve each other like the sun and moon was making him want to play cupid. Maybe they did not want to like each other because of the obvious reasons.  
  


One: one of them is technically dead and the other one is very much alive.  
  


Two: They are too secretive and stubborn to let their walls down to speak of their pasts. Which was not necessary in his opinion. Their pasts shouldn’t affect what they truly feel of each other that much.  
  


"Like-like I know I'm not young anymore and ironically they're older than both of us, but." Larry rambled on, "I can understand if they're struggling to find a place. With each other, of course. But sometimes the heart and mind are different."  
  


Amelia smiled back, "But the soul is always the same."  
  


His heart warmed at the thought as he replied, "Yeah...yeah."  
  


There was an awkward pause before she spoke, "I guess I should be going."  
  


Larry gestured an agreement. But as the pilot turned around, he called out. "Hey, Amelia." He smiled kindly back, "Thank you, again for helping us. I don't think we could have done it without you or Howard. And with what happened tonight, I really am sorry."  
  


The woman in front of him simply smiled, almost unfazed by the touch of the subject. That made him internally sigh once more, gladdened by her reaction.  
  


"No more apologies Larry Daley." Amelia answered, "Sometimes it's always good to get lost before you find the right direction. Thanks to you, I had the adventure of a lifetime."  
  


Taking a step to her, Larry gave her one last hug of the night. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, inhaling in with a quick mutter of thanks once more.  
  


A soft kiss pressed over her cheek.  
  


Larry stayed and watched her ascend the steps of the plane.  
  


She paused at the door.  
  


Turning around, blue eyes shining brightly back, Amelia said, "Say hello to Rebecca for me. She's a lucky woman to have you."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

As he entered through the revolving doors, propping his luggage down by the desk, Larry flicked the Tablet panels into place. It then glowed for a few seconds before he heard Rexy's massive roar from behind.  
  


The museum came back to life, greeting Rexy with a quick pat on the nose before hopping over to Teddy, who was still on top of Texas.  
  


The moment he saw him, the president's eyes lit up and a face of astonishment was plastered on him. He slid of Texas with ease and shook Larry's hand firmly.  
  


"Lawrence you're back! And appears to have red stains on your shirt. And your nose!" Teddy exclaimed, his face changing to concern. "Well, I'll be Hog-Wallered! What happened, my dear boy?"  
  


Larry huffed. As much as he wanted to say everything, he was too tired to even think about explaining every minuscule moment that had happened. He hadn't had time to text Nick or Rebecca what happened, so he was going to be bombarded by questions later on.  
  


Instead, Larry brushed his hair and said, "A hell of a lot." He then extended the Tablet to Teddy, who widened his eyes at it. "Here. Thank Dexter for stealing it."  
  


"Larry!"  
  


His head flicked quickly behind, finding the very person he was most nervous to see.  
  


"Rebecca?" Larry called out as she approached the two with a relieved tone.  
  


She held her phone next to her face and explained, "I got a call from Rowen saying that you were coming back. And I knew since the museum came back to life..."  
  


"Oh right," He responded.  
  


"We should probably put a glass casing around it." She pointed at the golden Tablet.  
  


He nodded, hitting himself mentally before changing the subject. "Yeah...well another good news is that: they're coming back here tomorrow."  
  


Both faces gaped at him.  
  


"How?"  
  


The obvious shock from Teddy made Larry smile, "Thank our resident Brit." He grinned. "She's just called the board and McPhee to move them back."  
  


Making a spluttering sound of words, Teddy could not help himself thank him and Rebecca. Tears sprung out of his eyes, catching Larry's heartstring to pull.  
  


The president just shook his head and spoke, "Rowena Bates never ceases to amaze me."  
  


Larry couldn't agree more whilst Rebecca smiled faintly.  
  


The three of them decided to take it down to the Egyptian Exhibit, placing it back to the plaque on the wall. When Larry placed it in, he felt as if a whole weight lifted off his shoulders. The Tablet was where it was supposed to be again. And perhaps where it will stay.  
  


They decided to spend the last hour sorting things over with the exhibits, with Larry fighting against telling Rebecca what happened. How was he supposed to tell her about Amelia? Should he just admit it? Or should he just admit everything?  
  


It felt like ages until the two had returned to the main hall, waiting for Teddy to jump back on to his podium. The former president seemed back in his own cheery and optimistic self, giving Larry a better feeling.  
  


"Sun come, dum-dum."  
  


A low sonorous voice echoed from upstairs. Teddy spoke, "Our Moai friend is right. The dawn will soon be upon us."  
  


Before the sun could return him back to a statue, Larry stood in front and asked, "Hey, Teddy. Remember the other night you were saying something about the key to happiness? You said, "The key to happiness is..." And then the sun came up and you froze. I think I got it figured out."  
  


Teddy looked at him, urging for him to continue.  
  


"It's doing what you love, isn't it? With the people you love." He answered back.  
  


The former president quipped, "Actually, I was going to say, "physical exercise", but the love thing's good, too."  
  


Larry waited for him to unsheathe his sword.  
  


He called out: "Lawrence!"  
  


"Yeah?"  
  


Teddy grinned back to him, "Welcome home, son."  
  


"Thanks." Larry returned the gesture, waiting for the moment to begin.  
  


Several seconds later, Teddy froze once again, letting the sunlight shine over his statue's eyes. The morning was back here again.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

They walked out of the museum, seeing the sun slowly rise above the silhouette of skyscrapers. The birds chirped, creating a ray of songs as they sauntered down the edge of Central Park to head to the subway. They kept silent, with Larry stopping to stare up to the museum and reflect.  
  


His thoughts mostly consisted of himself to finally say something; to let out all the worries and thoughts he had for the past several months. Then he remembered what he said to Teddy before the morning came.  
  


' _It's doing what you love_ ,' Larry repeated in his head. This night only reminded him of the things he missed all this time. The people he hadn't fully considered. He wanted to prove himself that perhaps he would change. Not only for his own happiness.  
  


But the happiness for the people he loved.  
  


And one of them was standing right in front of him.  
  


Rebecca paused when he did, her eyes worriedly eyeing him.  
  


Her hand immediately held his hand, feeling her slim fingers intertwined with his. Rebecca asked, "Hey, what's wrong?" She gave him a concerned look, "Did something happen? I-"  
  


Larry interrupted her as he cupped her face with his free hand and cut the space between their lips.  
  


The kiss was soft and sweet, warm as he felt her lips mould into his. Her arms slowly wrapped around, holding over his shoulders as she got closer to him.  
  


For the past months, it was just quick pecks and sometimes the kisses before going to work. But they never felt like fireworks.  
  


He never realised how much he missed the times like this. When their intimate moments felt like an eternity for him (and hopefully for her too). How his walls would crumble down just to let her through and keep her in his arms. How his stomach filled with butterflies whilst his head was in the clouds. It was beautiful and welcoming.  
  


It felt like home to him.  
  


When Larry tilted his head back slightly, he watched Rebecca flutter her eyes back in astonishment. He then tried to form the words;  
  


"I love you."  
  


It was the first thing he blurted out. "And I'm sorry. Sorry, for what's happened before this...and the past year. I should have thought it of it carefully, about the museum and all."  
  


Rebecca stayed quiet as he continued.  
  


"I thought about our relationship and our work… Maybe I shouldn't have thrown myself that far up to the clouds." Larry confessed, trying his hardest to hold back tears. "I just wanted what's best for you. What was best for everyone that I cared so much about. I wanted to become the man I needed to be."  
  


Rebecca gazed up, glistening eyes before pressing a soft kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, she graced a finger over his cheek.  
  


"Never stop being ambitious in your plans and dreams. You must realise that you need to take all these opportunities, even if some of us does get left behind. Your head is always in the clouds, thinking of these ideas - trying to find someone that could make this world a better place." She spoke strongly, " _That_ is who I fell in love with. So even if it doesn't turn out the way you hoped, I'll still be by your side. If you have me."  
  


He wanted to cry. To hug her tightly again and keep her there. He doesn’t deserve her.  
  


The things she had said didn't sound like him, but somehow every word kept him tightly in reality. Everything she said was supposed to be about him. Larry Daley, the man who became a millionaire from a night guard position. The man who was up in the clouds.  
  


Rebecca Hutman then kept him down. To make sure he didn't fly too high, to make sure there was always purpose for him to see the ground.  
  


_"Say hello to Rebecca for me. She's a lucky woman to have you."  
  
_

' _No, I think I'm lucky to have her,_ ' Larry thought back.  
  


Shaking his head, he hid back the smile that grew under his mouth. Rebecca then pulled him into another hug, her chin tucked over his shoulder. When they parted again, she brushed the tear that somehow appeared on his cheek.  
  


"And... I love you too, Larry Daley." She smiled, her eyes glistening in the morning sun. "Now, let's get you ready for that meeting today."  
  


Larry smiled back at that and pressed a kiss on her forehead.  
  


Maybe he was being too optimistic, but he could not deny how much he felt so much whole again.  
  


He felt complete again. She would be at his side and that was what mattered all for him and Rebecca Hutman. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 10/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	28. Renovations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena, Larry, Rebecca along with the Exhibits discuss how they could save their home.
> 
> Rowena receives a call from her friend across the pond.
> 
> Which follows through a conversation between Rowena and Ahkmenrah and the decision of her stay in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update day and man it feels like it's been ages for me. A lot had happened in the outside world, and it's very stressful for me. This chapter was a struggle to write, since as you may notice - there's going to be a 'conversation' going on between our two characters.
> 
> Thank you again for all the support and kudos. We are nearing to part 2. At the moment, I have started writing part 3 which is very 'plot' heavy. I'm hoping to mix in some dialogue scenes but you'll know eventually when I post the rest of the chapters of part 2.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy and have a lovely day/evening! :)
> 
> Amica/o - friend in Italian.

** Larry XXII  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

"No!"  
  


"Guys-"  
  


"Are you mad?"  
  


"I'd rather be stuck in the basement!"  
  


"No can do Gigantor! He was the one who agreed to chuck us out!"  
  


He facepalmed and groaned under his hand.  
  


The level of noise got louder.  
  


They were sitting inside Rowen's office that evening. It had been a couple of weeks since the exhibits returned all apart from Ahkmenrah, who stayed at the Smithsonian to repaint his sarcophagus. Once he woke up after returning, giving him a night to adjust once more with the museum, they gathered some of the exhibits into a room to discuss their plans.  
  


When he assumed that it would be the most relaxing two weeks since the night at Washington D.C - Larry was mistaken.  
  


When the exhibits returned, he heard from Rebecca how Dr McPhee and the board of governors took Rowen's decision of returning the exhibits. It was a large backslash, earning his historian and professor friend a scolding and perhaps Rowen’s position as part of the board. Larry should have expected that, as Rowen was not entirely part of the museum anymore.  
  


As much as Rowen was having a bad week, Larry was also having a bad week as well. So many meetings and so many contracts at Daley Devices, he almost lost count on the times he actually went to bed or had some decent sleep. The meeting with the Japanese company and Walmart was a success, though it did not transfer with the fake smiles and short grunts of 'fine' and 'okay' he did.  
  


Somehow the night at the Smithsonian did open a door for him, realising how much his life had gotten. It was running like a rocket, fast and unpredictable as to if he was going to reach his destination too soon.  
  


Though he could only thank Rebecca and Nick for that.  
  


Those two weeks with board meetings and discussions were not done without Rebecca and Nick's backs with him. Every step and choice he made, he carefully thought of everything. Consequences of his family and his happiness. He would talk with Rebecca and Nick during dinner (now work free unless it was his feelings) and have coffee breaks with Rowen in the city.  
  


His life was slowly getting back to a good pace.  
  


The only issue was the biggest choice he would ever give. And it was not being aided by how everyone was disagreeing with Rowen and his plans of telling the one person the secret of the museum. The one person who potentially led the Board's choice in keeping them at the museum.  
  


Octavius folded his arms and sighed, "I'm afraid I must agree with Jedediah. The man hardly considers the true sentiment of the museum, let alone our existence."  
  


There was a murmur of agreement around the room.  
  


"He might tell the board the truth." One of the Greek Muses - Clio - pointed out.  
  


Clio's sister - Thalia - snorted before adding, "And sorry Rowen, your friend is rude and scared of Larry for all matter."  
  


The last sister, Calliope, said: "And he needs to stop whining. Who whine's in every single thing someone does?"  
  


"You do," Thalia said, earning a scowl from the sister mentioned.  
  


As the Greek Muses glared at each other and the third muse ignored them, everyone else began commenting about McPhee.  
  


Suddenly there was a large bang.  
  


Standing in front of the office chair was Rowen, holding a gavel. ' _Where did she just...?_ ' Larry quirked a brow when Rowen glanced back. She eyed him with a raised brow back and he silently gestured for her.  
  


Everyone was waiting for her to speak.  
  


"Well, it's your choice." Rowen started and panned around the room sharply, "All of you. Not Larry's, Rebecca's or mine."  
  


"You live in this museum, it's your home." She continued. "We won't force something that we think it's best for you when you aren't happy with what the outcome is."  
  


As the Greek Muses kept quiet and watched, Christopher Columbus was muttering something in Italian whilst Attila grunted. Ahkmenrah, Sacagawea and Teddy sent warm smiles to Rowen's direction whilst he and Rebecca glanced at each other with small grins under them. There were some murmurs from Jedediah and Octavius whilst Dexter cooed back. They expected their historian to have some sort of speech, and surprisingly they predicted it well.  
  


No one spoke for a while.  
  


And then someone dared to cut the silence.  
  


"So, no more parties on Saturdays?"  
  


Larry couldn't help but chuckle, as like everyone else after Jedediah commented. He missed hearing these sorts of things from them, mostly being the butt of the joke from time to time. It was getting him rather nostalgic.  
  


It was his turn to suggest out loud, "We could always move it to Fridays. Most people go on Saturday nights so we could try once a week first, as a trial."  
  


All of them nodded, muttering more to each other.  
  


Clio was the first person to ask, "Who's going to tell him? Surely Rowen or Larry."  
  


He glanced to his right where Rowen already sat down, and they gave each other sort of look - knowing one of them would have asked that.  
  


Choosing to speak up, Larry gazed up to the person and said, "Actually, we were going to ask Ahk."  
  


As the name slipped out of his mouth, everyone had their eyes on the young pharaoh. Widening his eyes, he clutched the golden tablet around his front.  
  


"Me?" Ahkmenrah spoke in alarm.  
  


Teddy placed a hand over Ahkmenrah's shoulder and said, "It's your tablet, my dear boy. Well, your family's tablet to protect." He added, "And it is your choice if you want the Director to know the secret."  
  


His chest warmed at the interaction, glad to see two back together and watching the rest bicker before he left them for Daley Devices. Now he was back, and nothing had changed drastically. In fact, it might be a better change than he imagined.  
  


The exhibits have gotten closer as a group, now considering themselves almost family. Despite his absence, Larry saw the sibling bond between Sacagawea and Ahkmenrah, the big brotherly love from Attila. Teddy was much like a father to Ahkmenrah and Larry, always watching the exhibits under his wing. Dexter was Dexter - no difference though more tamed than the first time they met.  
  


For him, Jedediah and Octavius have changed the most in his opinion. Even when he was here or not, he saw the trust and relationship that have built to something Larry could label. It was only the night at the Smithsonian that gave a large kick to the end of the last lap. One that neither he nor Ahkmenrah expected them to kiss.  
  


He was kind of relieved that he was ten bucks short.  
  


Ahkmenrah then stammered, "I-Well...I guess it's reasonable." He then glanced over to the desk to Rowen. "But you know him better than any of us, Rowen."  
  


He looked at his friend much like the rest, waiting for her answer.  
  


A few seconds later, Rowen firmly answered, "I trust him to keep a secret." She took a sharp breath. "Plus, he'll protect the Tablet no matter what. It is part of his museum and he does care for every single artefact that resides here. He would make sure it won't be placed into the wrong hands; I assure you."  
  


That answer seemed to satisfy a lot of them who all nodded after Ahkmenrah agreed to speak on behalf of the exhibits. Once all the plans were set, and their proposition seemed good enough and tweaked for all of them: they left Rowen's office to resume their night.  
  


Larry and Rebecca stayed behind with Ahkmenrah and Rowen and discussed further on with what they have chosen to do. Hopefully, with their choices - they might save the museum that was the exhibits only home.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Another week after the meeting, Rowen and Rebecca persuaded McPhee to stay behind on some 'issues' with Ahkmenrah's exhibit.  
  


The two women gave Larry enough time to move all the exhibits and guide them around the place, making sure most of the animals stayed in their halls. Attila and his men agreed to guard the entrances to these exhibits whilst the Neanderthals were being entertained by Nicky down in the basement, hopefully paying attention to his son's _Assassin's Creed II_ game.  
  


Whilst McPhee was in Rowen's office, he and Teddy headed to the Egyptian exhibit only to discover Ahkmenrah holding the Tablet at hand and speaking kindly to the Jackal statues to stay put. They went through their plan before Teddy headed off to seek Sacagawea who was with Lewis and Clark.  
  


It was a bit quiet, only hearing Ahkmenrah's pacing. He was muttering in a range of languages to which Larry only recognise 'Tablet' and 'Dead Corpse' as part of the string of sentences.  
  


On the fourth cycle around the exhibit, Larry stopped him and reassured the young pharaoh (he doesn't know why he keeps calling an early-twenties man young but perhaps because of his age).  
  


“I know, Larry Daley. Perhaps I’m just overreacting.”  
  


Larry’s gave him a sympathetic smile and replied, “Hey, don’t worry.” He said. “I can understand why you’re stressed. But we’ll be here, okay?”  
  


Ahkmenrah sighed and thanked Larry for talking him down. By then, they heard the rising voices of the Museum Director.  
  


They turned around, only to find Rebecca and Rowen behind the confused Director.  
  


Larry saw his eyes dart quickly to his own, before staring oddly at Ahkmenrah. Hearing the pharaoh sigh, Ahkmenrah gave a small smile before introducing himself and began speaking of the Tablet.  
  


By the time, the phrase 'bring the museum to life' was spoken: McPhee butted in.  
  


"Right, and I'm the _Sphynx_." He glared behind at Rebecca and Rowen before narrowing his eyes at Larry and Ahkmenrah. "What on earth is this?" He demanded.  
  


The four of them glanced at each other before Larry ushered Ahkmenrah to continue. With a bit more confidence, the pharaoh told McPhee what had happened - and what was told from his view. He mentioned the tablet being from his family (they decided not to spill information about his brother) and how it allowed them to stay together and become immortal.  
  


They agreed, on Rowen's behalf, that neither Rebecca nor McPhee would know about Rowen's condition and how she met Ahkmenrah back in Cambridge. Because that would be a messy conversation to hold.  
  


And he thought it would too much for the Director to comprehend.  
  


McPhee held out his hand, palm out, and spoke. "So… Larry and Rowen have known since he started working here?"  
  


Larry stayed quiet and chewed the inside of his mouth. Whereas Rowen was the calmness out of the rest but kept her mouth shut.  
  


In the end, Ahkmenrah answered: "Yes."  
  


He jumped slightly when McPhee spat out a laugh.  
  


When the laughter stopped, he then held his index finger and said, "Give me a minute..."  
  


Next thing Larry knew: the man's eyes rolled to the back of his head and fainted.  
  


Catching him quickly, he huffed at the shocking weight he had to hold before putting the director down onto the floor. ' _We should have thought about this. A good chair or carpet would have done this job much better!_ ' He thought.  
  


Larry said, "Rowen?" He glanced up to find Rowen pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.  
  


With a sharp exhale, she answered: "He's a fainter. Give him a while."  
  


Rebecca was already at his side, making sure if McPhee did not hurt Larry or himself. On the other hand, Ahkmenrah was afraid and worry written across his face. He kept asking if the Director was alright, only getting cut off by Rowen's quick swat in the arm. He yelped and pouted, rubbing his arm whilst she exited the exhibit.  
  


He and the other two had curious looks.  
  


Though it was not too long until the petite woman was jogging back inside, her satchel over her shoulder before kneeling across McPhee's head.  
  


"Ah, here. This might wake him up." She said as she took out an odd-looking bottle filled with some white powder and uncapping the lid.  
  


“What’s that?” He asked.  
  


“Ammonium carbonate with a hint of perfume.” Rowen glanced at them and saw their confusion. “Smelling salts.”  
  


Ah.  
  


‘ _I’m not going to question as to why she had that._ ’ Larry mentally said.  
  


Wafting it over McPhee's nose, Larry saw his nose crinkle and his face twitch.  
  


As she took away the bottle, McPhee blinked his eyes several times before moaning out, "Rowen, I had the worse dream."  
  


Awkwardly, Larry rose to Rebecca's side as Rowen replied to McPhee, "I'm afraid it's not a dream."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XXV  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

"...and we found these tombs halfway through the excavation, and then my friend thought it was funny to scare the head of the dig."  
  


She rose her eyes across the table, past the book in her hands, and found the face of the voice telling the story.  
  


The beginning of July arrived, and her batch of students have returned from their expedition: much to her own and her granddaughter's delight. And one of those students included the man sitting in front of her, who was currently typing away on his laptop as he told her and Leslie his trip to Egypt.  
  


Garret then sheepishly added, "Well, your sister actually." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think she appreciated us quite as much."  
  


' _Quite an understatement_ ,' Rowena muttered in her head as she sipped her tea.  
  


Though, Garret Trench wasn't truly correct. Their group had been the most enthusiastic bunch she had ever worked with; it surprised her that children in this century have a love of her subjects. Perhaps it was all the hype and exciting places, like the museum opening its new Night Programme in a few weeks.  
  


Hettie had told her that they have successfully covered most of the site without major damage and had done it in the time her granddaughter expected. Not only that, but Rowena was also glad that she spent more time with her age (knowing well how much her grandaughter's been out in the desert for almost five years with a bunch of middle-aged adults).  
  


Yes, there was some irritation at moments, but overall: Rowena could tell that Hettie enjoyed some of their presence.  
  


She shouldn't judge by just one perspective. "I think she gave a clear expressive review of your group." Rowena then changed her tone, smiling. "I'm just teasing you. She said you were wonderful and professional."  
  


There was a clatter of plates, and she found her red-haired friend placing a bowl of watermelon slices on the table.  
  


Garrett sighed, and stretched his arms out, before reaching out to Leslie for a hug. "Well, I'll have to thank you, Rowen. Without your recommendation, I wouldn't have finished my PhD. Ow!"  
  


Hitting his head lightly, Leslie defended: "And me as well! I'm the one who's friends with the Bates."  
  


He answered, "Yeah, I know Leslie." The two glanced at each other, seeing the light in their eyes brighten.  
  


Rowena's lips twitched slightly.  
  


The two were silently moving around the room, only hearing the alarm of the microwave go off until she felt a buzz. Taking her phone out, Rowena saw the name flashing on the screen and her heart skipped.  
  


She then stood up and excused herself, "Sorry, I'm just going to get this."  
  


There was a string of 'okays' before Rowena began heading down the hallway before clicking the button. "Hello?" She said.  
  


A familiar voice spoke through the phone, "Hello Rowen."  
  


Making to the bottom staircase, she paused slightly as she realised who it was.  
  


She answered back with an apologetic tone, "Antonio, oh I'm so sorry I should have called you last week!" She continued, "But with the museum being renovated and graduation I completely forgot."  
  


She took that time to walk up to the first floor before sitting holding onto the windowsill, her eyes looking down to see the summer rain beating down.  
  


There was a quick pause. "No, no, no. That's fine. I was just clarifying if you're planning to do these projects once you return?" He paused. "Most of these are conservation and plans for some of the new shows in the Natural Museum."  
  


Her fingers grew numb as the hold of her phone weakened.  
  


She took a moment to catch her breath again.  
  


"Oh." She quietly murmured. "Oh right...I forgot."  
  


Whilst Antonio explained through the phone, Rowen could only focus her mind at her the thrum of heart.  
  


"Come on, amica. Please say New York hasn’t changed your mind. I need your help running this side of the world." Antonio spoke, a slight tone of pleading.  
  


Her heart skipped.  
  


"...I know I know, _amico_. But there's just some more things I'll need to sort out." Rowena spoke, uncertainty lingering at the tip of her tongue. "I promise you by May, I'll be back. My visa's going to expire then anyways."  
  


There was a hum of agreement.  
  


"Great. I will email you the details and I'll call back once you've got plans sorted." He said in relief. "Have a nice day, amica."  
  


"You too _amico_. Bye..."  
  


Rowena trailed off before hearing the call cut out afterwards. She wanted to hit her head against the wall, but instead, she raked her fingers through her hair. With a deep breath, she exhaled. Her chest tightened, thinking of all the things that were swirling around her head. What was she going to do? She needed to go back; she had no choice.  
  


Her entire life she lived through the hardship of choice. And she had forgotten what responsibilities she was brought into. Now she was being pulled into a crossroad she knew her heart and mind would have different ways. Ten months until she would leave.  
  


Ten months to choose between two places.  
  


A sound of footsteps cut Rowena off her thoughts. When she turned around, she found Garret heading up the stairs.  
  


"Oh, sorry!" There was panic in his voice as he asked, "I wasn't barging anything right?"  
  


Rowena shook her head and tucked her phone away. "No, it's fine." She then paused and question, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anyone that could help with the night programme?"  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The museum was saved.  
  


And no one could have done it other than Larry Daley himself.  
  


She was surprised - shocked even - what he did. Selling his own company in two months, using the money to fund the museum into putting a Night Programme to save the museum. Richard would have fainted again if there wasn't a bunch of board members around them. Everyone was shocked.  
  


Dr Campbell approved of the decisions and gave Richard's word to allow Larry to help with the plans. Soon after, the holograms were removed (scrapped into parts) and the plans of the museum tours began.  
  


The exhibits had a mixed view of the idea. Many were enthusiastic whilst the others didn't like to the idea of kids once a night and having to tell them of their history.  
  


However, many loved the idea: those mainly by Sacagawea, Octavius and shockingly Attila (who wanted to tell stories to little children of their mythology). As for Teddy, he led the tours and guided families around, speaking the history of the museum to them as they rode Texas.  
  


Dexter and his family of capuchin entertained, alongside with Rexy who scared half of the visitors on the first night. Jedediah was disappointed that he couldn't ride any of his cars but gladly enjoyed spending it teaching the kids the ways of the Wild West. The Greek Muses sang and spoke of ancient Greece as well as the Easter Island head making the children laugh.  
  


As for their resident pharaoh, he was the most enthusiastic of them all. He could not stop writing down all his plans about his talks, almost filling up twenty pages on a Word document. But the words on the page could not match how he delivered it.  
  


He spoke with a tone and voice that captured everyone's ears. From children to adults to elders, they listened to the times of ancient Egypt and the culture they had.  
  


He also mentioned the golden tablet and how it was bestowed to him by his family. When she heard this from Larry, who heard it from Sacagawea: Rowen's heart fluttered in happiness to see how engaged Ahkmenrah was.  
  


That was why she was struggling to say the right words two nights after.  
  


' _Alright Rowena, let us just re-run what you're going to say_ ,' She thought as she strode through the museum corridors. ' _You're going to begin the conversation, and then gently pull it to your way saying how you and he have responsibilities._ '  
  


Rowena was so busy with her thoughts that she had not noticed herself standing already at the front entrance of the Egyptian exhibit. She stayed this time this evening, letting Teddy know on the way here that she would greet the pharaoh instead. He gave a quick nod before proceeding to find Larry about some word of the plans next week.  
  


The Jackals bowed to her, and she muttered a good evening to them before a figure appeared in front of her.  
  


Ahkmenrah's eyes lit up, and then turned into confusion as he spoke, "Good evening, I thought you had work tomorrow morning?"  
  


Tonight, he wore no crown this evening, only wearing his usual attire. Those brown eyes that always mixed into gold under the dimmed light.  
  


She must have been staring back when she saw him reach out. Rowena shifted back slightly and then blinked several times.  
  


' _Well done Clarke!_ '  
  


"Yeah...I do." Rowena replied, stumbling her words. "Can I not visit my friends?"  
  


' _What kind of question was that dimwit?_ '  
  


He wryly smiled and replied, "I'm just rather worried you'll be returning to your unstable sleeping habits. I would offer you my sarcophagus but uh..."  
  


When she realised what he had just said, Rowena spotted the tint of pink in his cheeks.  
  


She twitched her lips, "Rather _forward_ of you, your majesty."  
  


"I told you, you don't have to call me that." He then raised a brow and teased, "...Unless you'd like to be called my lady."  
  


She gave him a raised eyebrow and his smirk didn’t leave his lips.  
  


"Touché." Rowena paused and suggested, "Why don't we go on a walk? I'd like to discuss with you about something."  
  


She gulped down the growing worry, relieved to see him nod to her with a small smile. He held his arm out and Rowena's heart heated faster. Her cheeks grew warm as she took his hand and intertwined her fingers around his. As she gazed up to him, she wanted to lose herself in his face until she beat herself again to tell herself why she was here.  
  


They wandered the halls, saying hello to every exhibit they passed. Neither their closest friends had stumbled across them, which Rowena felt better of. She did not need more hindrance in telling Ahkmenrah the issue. She planned that after he knew of her plans, she would then tell Larry, Rebecca and the exhibits.  
  


Five minutes into their quiet stroll, Ahkmenrah then asked, "Tell me then, **_mer ek_**." He curiously spoke, "Is there something the matter?"  
  


This was when she loosened the grip in his hand, untangling herself from his side to come and face him. They came to a stop in a secluded area of the museum, where it would enter the more modern areas of the building. No one seemed to be around, only a couple of birds perched over the fountain.  
  


She huffed, and began, "It's about work...my work." Rowena explained, "As you know, I work in three museums. But I mostly run the British Museum as a director and governess like Richard."  
  


He made a sound of approval.  
  


Slowly stressing her words, Rowena continued: "And... I came here to New York one to establish some connections to maintain and preserve our works in a much more efficient and sustainable way." She paused. "However, I wasn't supposed to stay here for long."  
  


There was a slow change in Ahkmenrah's face as he responded: "Oh. Right..."  
  


"What I'm trying to say is that...gods I hate this." She rubbed her forehead with a heavy sigh.  
  


Her breathing quickened, trying to force her tears away. Why on earth was she crying about? Why was this so hard to tell him?  
  


A hand tilted her chin up.  
  


He then let go of her as she faced him. "Rowen, you can tell me anything," Ahkmenrah reassured her.  
  


She gulped down.  
  


"I... I have to go back to London." Rowena spoke.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah VII  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

"Ahk."  
  


He raggedly spoke, "You're leaving...again."  
  


"I swear I would stay if I could. But you must realise that it's my work, just like you when you were the king of a country." She answered, and something clicked in his head.  
  


He blankly replied, "Yes. And I was a terrible king." He said bitterly, "I couldn't even last two years without getting murdered in cold blood."  
  


Rowen firmly spoke, "We have to do our duty."  
  


A scoff escaped his lips. He let out a rancorous laugh.  
  


Duty: he heard of that excuse before. So many times he'd been told how each person has a responsibility in the world; that each person was carved into something the gods have told them to do. His family, his father, his brother: all followed what the gods wanted and guess what happened to them?  
  


To hear it from _her_? The only person that had driven her own life by her and only her: to tell him that it was duty first was a mockery. She had a life that she could dictate. No advisor or teacher to tell her what to do. She was free to choose what she wants.  
  


And here she was: telling a mummy that could only be awake at night. The one who was forced to go to New York because of an agreement.  
  


"What? What is it?" She demanded.  
  


"Your...duty." He spoke the words like they were poison, pausing at each one as if he tasted it.  
  


She inhaled sharply before asking back: "And pray to tell what you mean?"  
  


"Can you for once sacrifice your duty for family for once? Because everything you've done since I've met you, you've put your work first before the ones you love!" He snapped back, bringing his heart to stop.  
  


It was Cambridge all over again.  
  


He regretted what he had just said.  
  


She quickly stomped over to him, her face merely inches from him. He could feel the breath from her parted lips brush over his cheeks as she looked up. Rowen hissed, "You know that's not entirely true! I've put my love first many times!"  
  


Their eyes met.  
  


He saw her eyes. They were pleading. Begging.  
  


But all he saw in them were the truth.  
  


She was lying.  
  


"When then?" Ahkmenrah called out.  
  


She opened her mouth.  
  


"I..."  
  


Not a sound came out of her mouth.  
  


"Exactly." He felt his anger boil slowly up his chest as he spat out in disgust. "You are just like my family! Putting duty over love!"  
  


Suddenly her eyes flashed wide, and she stepped backwards in a scoff. "You are being childish!" Rowen retaliated, "I came here to tell you that I have no choice but to make sure my life is stable, and others are as well and you argue back that it's selfish?"  
  


A sharp burn slashed his chest.  
  


"I didn't say you were selfish! I said that you are forgetting that you aren't the only one immortal that is forced to protect an artefact the gods wanted you to. I'm thinking of your safety! I care for you, **_mer ek_**!" He pleaded; his voice strained as he approached her.  
  


Though no matter how he got closer to her, she turned her eyes to stare in front of her.  
  


"I want to understand you! But every decision you make; it's as if you want to push yourself away from us." He cried, "I want you to let go of the pain that has weighed you for years. About the war and the people, you lost-"  
  


She breathed in.  
  


Then he dropped the first name that he had wanted to confront her ever since the night at the Smithsonian. He muttered, "Harry wouldn't want to watch you become unattached to the world."  
  


Rowena's head whizzed up to stare at him - the shock was written over her open mouth.  
  


"What did you just say?" She whispered.  
  


His stomach plummeted. "Harry Bates." He muttered, "He was your husband. Peggy's father."  
  


Something in her eyes snapped.  
  


Her eyes remained cold.  
  


"How..."  
  


He winced. "The Smithsonian."  
  


Shutting her eyes, she breathed out of her nostrils. It was her turn to laugh - though the tone of it sent a nerve down his spine.  
  


"Of course, they fucking did," Rowen spoke in disgust. "Those tapes...I thought I got them deleted..."  
  


Ahkmenrah then tried to divert the conversation back to himself. "Why do you wish to forget a part of your life? He loved you."  
  


"How would you know?" She pried.  
  


"Because." Every word he spoke hurt him. Ahkmenrah spoke, "Because you just reacted like that."  
  


"Then what's important with him?"  
  


' _Everything!_ ' He screamed in his head. ' _Because it means...it means you love him. This...this Harry Bates! It means your heart belongs to another. It means...I can't say all the things I've wanted to say for the past three years! That you mean more to me than just a friend...  
_ '

"Everything." He answered, "You can't run away from that."  
  


Rowen breathed.  
  


Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But that's just it...he loved me." Rowen trailed, "...And I loved him."  
  


He stared down at her.  
  


What did she mean? Did she still love him or...?  
  


' _Stop!_ ' He snapped himself out. ' _You're competing against a dead man, and that's already a questionable statement-_ '  
  


But what did he wanted from her? Did he want her to tell him all the biggest question he wanted all this time? That the man she possibly loved was linked with the little girl he left all those years ago. The girl who partially brought him life after such darkness.  
  


_'You're jealous that he might be hers,_ ' Something in the back of his head told him. ' _You're jealous that Peggy wasn't yours. Because that means Rowen's heart was only for him and only him-_ '  
  


' _Shut up!_ ' Ahkmenrah snapped mentally. ' _Rowen is not like that! She loves equally and eternally to everyone she allows!_ '  
  


"Ahk." She called out.  
  


"He's Peggy's father, isn't he." He interrupted, his jaw tightening.  
  


"Yes."  
  


He raised his voice, "Then why aren't you doing it for her? For them?"  
  


A sandstorm of thoughts formed in his mind. Too many questions that he wanted to ask her. He knew that Peggy must have a father, but Rowen rarely mentioned who he was, where he was and if Harry was dead or alive. Did Peggy know who her father was? Did she grow up with stories about him and did he know Peggy existed before his death?  
  


All these questions led to the woman in front of him. Rowena Clarke, Joanna Bates, Rowen Bates. Despite the names: they still had the same faces. Though, did each face differ in their person?  
  


Maybe he wasn't looking at the same woman he met fifty-seven years ago.  
  


She looked to be in her thoughts. At first, she was sombre, only staring out. He closely examined her face and spotted the tears running down her cheeks.  
  


"Rowen?" He began.  
  


She sniffed, scrunching her eyes as she shook her head. Rowen muttered, "Peggy...Margaret. I'm sorry Ahk. I should have told you the moment we met again."  
  


"What about Peggy?" He got closer, begging her. " ** _Mer ek_** tell me!"  
  


Rowen closed her eyes once more and answered: "I... Khafre asked me what I would trade my immortality for."  
  


"Why?"  
  


"Because I needed to know who it was." She raised her voice. "Who I really was talking to. If it was Khafre or someone else."  
  


He was speechless. "What did you ask for?"  
  


"I... I asked for her. I asked my daughter to come back." Rowen replied in a blank tone.  
  


"What."  
  


She gritted her teeth and growled, "You know what I know! Don't make me say it."  
  


' _You do know it, Ahkmenrah_.'  
  


' _Stop_.'  
  


' _Don't deny it_ ,' The voice echoed in his mind, almost imagining a smirk. ' _You know what she's going to say. It's why she hid it. She doesn't want you to hurt._ '  
  


' _Shut up-_ '  
  


' _Because she knows how you reacted when you found out when they were going to take you away_.' He thought. ' _You're not going to react well._ '  
  


He stammered his words, "You're lying!" He wasn't sure if he was trying to tell it himself or her. "She would just be in her sixties-"  
  


"Why would I lie about my own daughter's death?" Rowen questioned.  
  


Ahkmenrah froze.  
  


He felt like he was back in his sarcophagus, the lid bolted tightly as he began to realise, he could not get out. Inside, he felt he was thrashing his legs, punching the stone until he could feel his fists bruise and bleed.  
  


_"You can't do this!" He shrieked, his anger lashing out. "There must be another way!"  
  
_

_Joanna cried, "There is no either way!" She continued, "I would have sent them with you if I could, but I can't, alright!"  
  
_

_He glared at her before he scoffed in disbelief. With one click of his sandal, he turned around and walked away. The person he called as a friend had betrayed him once more.  
  
_

_She lied to him, and he would not forgive her for doing it to him.  
  
_

"When?" He demanded.  
  


"Almost fifteen years ago." She quietened, gulping out. "She...she had a terminal illness."  
  


He wasn't sure exactly what terminal illness was. But it didn't stop him to ask, "She was sick? Then why didn't she go to...to a healer or something?" He exclaimed. "One of your doctors!"  
  


"You know her!" She shouted, "She would rather be _dragged_ to a hospital then admit there was something wrong with her!"  
  


Rowen then explained, “It was…it was cancer. You probably don’t even know what that is.” She shut her eyes. “I…it was already too late when I realised. She was so weak. And even then, she still denied seeking help.”  
  


His lungs gave out.  
  


Peggy. The girl he wished to have been his daughter.  
  


She was already gone before he could see her again.  
  


A soft word exited his lips. "...Go."  
  


"Ahk-"  
  


His eyes flashed with anger as he gritted his teeth, "I said go! Or do I have to say it again?"  
  


Rowen's eyes were wide in alarm before it morphed in hatred. They glowed under the warm light, making something tighten in his chest. As her lips thinned, she then swerved around and sauntered out of the room.  
  


He heard the squeak of her shoes for a few seconds. It then stopped.  
  


"I meant what I said, Ahkmenrah." She murmured. "I _used_ to love him."  
  


Staring out to the fountain, watching the birds return after their shouting match, Ahkmenrah never left his eyes to look back. He would not give in this time.  
  


"I want to be alone." He repeated.  
  


By the time she left, the tears spilt over his cheeks. All you could hear was his gentle sobs in the empty hallway that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 11/2020]: Just tidying part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	29. Drowning in Dreams [Rowena]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the outcome of Rowena's news to Ahkmenrah and the rest of the museum, the two become distant and are hesitant to talk to each other. On Rowens's side, she feels lost and blames herself for all the pain Ahkmenrah endured. It triggers her memories of the past, which only fuels one thing she's grown to be addicted to - drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I missed the update day. It might become a bit more sporadic.
> 
> As for this chapter, this was quite hard to write as I had to write two scenes in different perspectives. In this one, it's going to be Rowena who will eventually lead into a drinking habit. The sudden realisation that even with Ahk existing, he'll never get to understand her pain of living through history, making her more isolated than ever. 
> 
> You basically see a side of her that is quite vulnerable. 
> 
> Thank you again for the hits and kudos. Have a good read! :)
> 
> WARNING: Themes of drinking and some swearing.

** Rowena XXVI  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

Her first experience of drowning was when Robert and Howard took her on holiday.   
  


The school year had finished just a few days ago and in the spur of the moment: Robert told her and Howard to pack some clothes enough for a few days. It was the most out-of-the-world decision her best friend ever made. Ditching all his meetings, his apprenticeship _and_ Josephine to spend four days on the island of Guernsey.  
  


The Daley family owned a little cottage situated by the coast: quaint and alone in an open field near a beach. It was a sunny week, giving them time to explore Guernsey to just sit about on the porch, either drinking or debating about historical facts, gossiping like little girls.   
  


Robert would start the debate whilst she would argue back. They would bicker as Howard would stay silent, shaking his head as he drew in his sketchbook.  
  


Rowena felt like she was living a dream, that all she had was her family. It reminded her of her first family: Harold and Eleanor Clarke and the Plymouth Estate. How her first eighteen years of her life was spent in her own world that confined her in a manor. Perfect and pristine, nothing would destroy it.  
  


Then the third day in Guernsey arrived and she was thrust into the memories of Pompeii.  
  


Robert and Howard wanted to go and swim at the beach, enjoy the hot summer day cooled by the sea. She decided to tag along despite something ticking in her head not to, ignoring it all the same as she felt the sand between her toes. It felt like she was back in the desert, though not without the wind blowing at her face and the taste or salty spray on her lips.  
  


They shouted to her, telling her to come into the water and have some fun. For the first two attempts, Rowena shook her head - preferring to sit and watch as she wrote down in her journal of her time in Guernsey. By the third time, she could not resist and gave in to their whining. She ran into the water.  
  


But as the feeling of the water soaking up to her ankles, her dress getting wet: the noise quietened around her. Her mind blurred, and she heard the screams and howling of people around her. The crackling of thunder and the shot of lightning. The large waves soaring above her head.  
  


The sound of a baby wailing filled her ears.  
  


Next thing she knew, she was choking, attempting to find air but could not.  
  


All she knew was the arms cradling her near their chest and blue eyes staring down in panic at her. Robert and Howard saved her from going further into the deep end, after continuously wading through without her knowledge. She could not remember that part and told them she didn't realise what she did.  
  


What she didn't tell them was that she reminisced the day her birth mother died. That her mother saved her from death. Never had Rowena remembered such an early memory before her time in Plymouth. Even her father never told of what happened, only how he found her washed up on a beach.  
  


Those next two days she hardly stepped onto the beach; afraid she would hear the screams again in the storm. It was why she would never go punting in Cambridge or spend time near lakes or ponds. That was a fear no one ever knew, even Howard and Robert - the two people she trusted to reveal her past, the pain and the neglect. They would never know that Rowena Clarke feared something simple and yet unexplanatory.  
  


Hence why she felt like she was drowning again: but this time with a bottle in her hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.  
  


She was sitting in her office, hearing the murmurs of the museum around her. Why she stayed was not her choice; there was a bunch of dissertations to look through and the only way Rowena could do it at a time like this would have to be some alcohol to dull her mind. Or at least forget everything that has happened.  
  


_"You're lying!" He shouted at her. "She would just be in her sixties-"  
  
_

_"Why would I lie about my own daughter's death?" She snapped back, only to realise what she had done.  
  
_

Taking another sip, she forced the nib of the pen onto the page and took more notes. The lines got thicker as she wrote, hearing the violent scratches of the pen mix with the clinks of ice.   
  


Rowena kept forcing that memory away, almost wanting to scream at herself. But no matter what: his harsh words kept ringing in her head.  
  


It had been a month and a bit since that night. She barely stepped foot near the Egyptian exhibit - even during the day. She stayed in the staff wing, keeping herself busy with conservation and giving lectures down at the university. When she wasn't at work, she would stay at home or spend the night wandering Central Park to clear her head. In all truth: it did not clear her head, only keeping her mind away from the man that slowly ate into her mind and heart.  
  


The same man that she lied to.  
  


Rowena kept telling herself again and again how much she messed up. How she should have just told him three years ago instead of telling him just as she told him she was leaving. Of course, it would give him the same reaction as the time she sent him to New York. The time left them bitter and angry, but overall: entirely devastated and upset.  
  


Now it was worse when the man she had argued with was in the building as she was. She could have brought her papers home, but she knew her housekeeper would lock all the stock of alcohol she had. So, the next source was the security room and her office.  
  


Speaking of security: there was a knock on the door.  
  


Rowena remained in her chair, not wanting the presence of anyone at that moment.  
  


However, there was no need when she heard the door shut close and the footsteps of the night guard.  
  


Her head still focused on the paper, she muttered: "I'd like to be left alone, thank you"  
  


As her hand went to grab for the bottle to refill her glass, she found the spot she left the bottle: empty. When she looked up hazily, she flashed her eyes as she found Larry holding the whiskey bottle - frown upon his lips.  
  


She protested, "Hey! I was drinking that-"  
  


"And you've drunk enough, Ro." He retorted, a scolding expression on his face. "You took my stash too..."  
  


She waved her pen and drawled, "Well, it was easy to lockpick, not gonna lie." Rowena raised an eyebrow, "Now shouldn't you be doing your job? I've got some lecture plans to finish." She shooed him off, indicating for him to leave.  
  


When she returned writing, a hand hovered over the page she was about to put her pen on. She raised a brow in bemusement at him.  
  


Larry sternly said, "No. You're going to do this tomorrow." His hand shut the folder, "Come on, get your jacket."  
  


"Where are we going?" She asked, sitting back against her chair with wariness.  
  


Larry scrunched his nose and replied, "You're going to get some fresh air, and a mint."  
  


To her dismay, he never let go of the bottle as they left her office. Once she got her coat and her bag, they took the back door to the car park.  
  


Larry drove his car, a new fancy one he bought a year ago once he had the money. It wasn't that long, perhaps ten minutes by car through the empty streets of New York. When he came to a stop by parking by the side of the road, he helped her out and she gladly took his hand.  
  


When she got out, she then noticed her surroundings. It was another park, though small than Central Park by the buildings around. Then she saw the podium, and the stone pillars surrounding her.  
  


There wasn't much wind, perhaps a gentle breeze as they hopped up the steps. Passing by a bin, Rowena saw Larry dump the quarter-filled whiskey bottle straight in. She gave him an annoyed look and he shrugged, passing a small box of what seemed to be the mints he promised. She frowned. It would seem she won't be drinking her way through this.  
  


Up and up they went until they made it to the top, where a large podium or a soldier statue sat. Her heart grew cold and her body grew numb. Why did he bring her here? And on the day.  
  


It was the day it ended.  
  


The war had ended.  
  


Larry and she continued to walk up until they saw the bronze plaque. It was engraved with many names - most of them she hadn't known well enough but familiar vaguely in her memory.  
  


A name stood out amongst them all.  
  


> **_Harrison Alessandro Bates_ **
> 
> **_1916-1945  
>   
> _ **

"So, he told you." She spoke in a monotone.  
  


"Just a name." Larry paused in his words and then hummed. "This is where he was buried."  
  


"He was born in New York," Rowena answered. "He should've been laid to rest where he wanted to. Not here."  
  


"Did she...did she know? Peggy?"  
  


"...She was ten when I told her." She muttered, "She kept wondering why I never told her what happened to him or why he didn't come back."  
  


Larry stayed quiet as she stared at the memorial blankly.  
  


"Peggy was smart. She understood what happened and... she got mad on several occasions. Mostly to me." Rowena sighed, taking out a handkerchief from her bag. After wiping her nose, she replied, "It's a hard thing. To have your daughter blame you sometimes that she was fatherless. She never meant it, but it took a great toll on our relationship for some time."  
  


Tears sprung once more in her eyes as she clenched them shut. She remembered her daughter's reaction whenever they spoke about school. How the school often asked where 'Mr Bates' was and if he truly was her daughter. That led to an angrier dispute between her and the school, which made it harder for her and Peggy to get along. Secondary school was not as bad as primary though.  
  


When Peggy turned eleven, a year after she told her daughter that Harry was gone: the school asked her to bring her father to enjoy Father’s Day. That hurt Rowena more than ever, seeing Peggy walk out of school alone whilst her classmates held hands with their dads - laughing and smiling. But even then, Peggy would still have a smile on her face as she ran to her.  
  


She apologised to her daughter that she could not make it. That she had to sit in class for the whole day alone. And what her daughter told her, which made her break there right in the front of the school, was this.  
  


_"It's okay Mamma," Peggy spoke to her, a small smile. "I know you're busy being a hero. Like Papa and Ahk..."  
  
_

On that day, she promised herself that she would never miss anything school or hobby related for her. She did not give a damn about the university pestering her to work or students asking for her. She would give her all for her daughter.  
  


Even sometimes the mention of Harry Bates still lingered on, nothing painful but something more on nostalgia. Rowena remembered the short time they had together, even if their love rested upon the brink of life and death. In war, time was hung in a thin string - tied by the risks of someone shooting them or missing.  
  


Their love was short-lived, and perhaps it was what the fates decided for her to only get. All the love that was left was given in the form of their child. Margaret Bates: a girl who bore more from her father despite looking identical to herself. Rowena had never thought of bearing a child and never thought of the possibility of having one post-war.  
  


But Harry would be in Peggy's mind through stories. Their time in the war and the character he had. How he interacted with others and how he was the bravest man she ever knew.  
  


Rowena wiped her tears away. She whispered, "I wished Peggy got to know him more than just stories. But I feel like he is watching her anyways. Up somewhere, heaven or some other afterlife."  
  


Harry spoke rarely of his beliefs but always tried to share and accept other's ideas when they were together.   
  


"Well, he wouldn't wish you to be sad on his behalf. Did he?" Larry hypothetically asked, concern in his eyes.  
  


Rowena whispered painfully, "No. He wanted me to be happy."  
  


"And are you?"  
  


Was she happy? Or was it another facade that she had made? Like her names and her past lives. Rowena had never thought of her happiness as something so vital. Survival was always her priority and the survival of the ones she loved. Maybe she was genuinely happy once - a long time ago. When she was a child and her life was above the clouds, in her little bubble.  
  


She could only answer, "Sometimes. But you can be happy, and yet still feel so empty."  
  


A sigh left his lips. "Look, Rowen. I don't know how to put this lightly but: whatever's between you and Ahk, you need to talk about it. Before you leave." Larry said. "He and you always had something...and you and I both know what it truly is."  
  


"He's...I just can't explain, alright!" A frustrating snarl came out of her, though it almost seemed tired and deflated. Rowena said with gritted teeth, "He should have understood how much she meant to me. And I know how much she meant to him. He...he brought her to life. He gave her what Harry couldn't."  
  


Larry soothingly spoke, placing his hand into hers. "Hey, it's okay...it's okay."  
  


Once he pulled away, she felt a hand brush up to her chin. Gently, he tilted her head back to him.  
  


"But as your friend: I want you to be happy. For you and Ahk to be happy." Larry told her, removing his hand to gesture out in front of him. "But you can't just let the anger disperse slowly. It is going to take years for something like this. The last time something happened it took him fifty years to forgive you. Now you have eight months left with him. Do you want to spend eight months not talking to him and being miserable to each other?"  
  


Biting her lip, she shook her head.  
  


His eyes relaxed as he smiled. "Spend these last months happy together. Go on those night walks you use to do with him around New York. Go to the library and read. Just enjoy it." Larry continued, "Because I know you live forever but you need to live like you only have so much left."  
  


When the words entered her mind, Rowena remembered the familiar words Harry told her in last dying breath.  
  


Then Rowena turned to him and asked, "Larry, do you think I'm a bad person?"  
  


His brows creased to confusion. "Why do you think that?" Larry asked back.  
  


"I just remembered the time when I got so mad at Cecil, and then with Khafre." She murmured, "And because I feel like I don't want to apologise. Because I don't feel it's appropriate even if I know it's right. As if...my hearts speak differently to my mind."  
  


Larry smiled sadly, and the warmth in his voice only broke her more. "You are good, Rowen Bates. You've only done the things you did to protect yourself and the ones you loved." He said, "But we just want what's best for both of you. It's why we're here, as friends. Immortality won't change how human you still are."  
  


Her chest tightened and she could not hold it any longer. Perhaps it was the mixture of alcohol and emotion. Now she was sobbing, ignoring the handkerchief she had as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.  
  


She had finally wept. All the anger, self-hatred and sadness that had built up finally came. Not by an erratic burst, but a flood of sorrow and tears. Rowen Bates and Joanna Bates have finally opened the one door in their mind they wished they could have opened years before.  
  


He whispered to her, "Come here, Ro. I'm here" Arm enveloping her, Larry embraced her into a tight hug as he muttered for her to let it all out.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Another night occurred, though this time there were no distractions from Larry or any trips to see her dead husband's name written on a memorial.   
  


So, there she was, almost finishing a bottle of whiskey she bought that night and solely for that night. Her vision was blurring, despite having perfect sight all her life. Her face flushed and probably red from her body trying to burn it all off. How her body could consume so much still baffled her after two hundred years.  
  


She staggered over to her gramophone, and her shaking hands placed the needle over the record. In a few seconds, it began to play a quiet tune.  
  


_"This is a gramophone," She placed a hand over the box.  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah approached it carefully, laying a hand softly over the record and the needle. He then looked back at her and asked, "What does it do?"  
  
_

_"It plays music. So instead of using instruments, the musician was recorded by another using a tape recorder and then the music is printed onto this black disc called a record." She then placed the needle over the record, and it began to spin. "This then reads the music it's recorded on the disc and plays it through the box and out of this tube called a speaker."  
  
_

_A soft tune of a familiar Italian song filled the room and she hummed along with the lyrics. She then received an odd glance.  
  
_

_"What is that language?" He asked.  
  
_

_Rowena grinned and said, "Now this is Italian,"  
  
_

_"I'd like to learn Italian, after Latin and English." He said. All she did was nod before taking his hands and pulling him into a series of spins and dances.  
  
_

She did not notice that someone had entered her office. This was the second time someone slipped through as she was busy. As she was about to yell at either Larry or Rebecca for disturbing, she saw him stand there.  
  


Ahkmenrah wore his usual attire, albeit his crown that he stopped wearing after the first year. His hair was a mess of curls. ' _I wonder how soft it is..._ ' Rowena thought as she approached him and reached her hand out.  
  


Her heart was racing, flying like a rocket as she pulled him in and felt his skin cold at her touch. Are his eyes somehow mixing between brown gold and... blue? Perhaps she was just seeing things.  
  


Ahkmenrah quietly murmured, "Rowen..."  
  


"Dance with me, please." She pleaded under her breath.  
  


They began to sway to the music; her steps slow and steady. Though, not as graceful as a Duchess should be.  
  


"Ro... ** _mer ek_**...you're drunk, my love." His words sent her eyes watering.  
  


' _I don't deserve you..._ '  
  


"Just hold me please," Rowena whispered, her head placed over his chest. She was almost begging. "Please, _amicus meus_...please."  
  


He then kept her close, smelling the scent of paper and palm leaves... and perhaps the hint of dates.  
  


"I'm sorry, Ahk...I'm sorry..." She wept into his chest.  
  


She wasn't sure how long they swayed there. But by the time he stopped, the music finished.  
  


A hand then pulled her cheek up to him. Ahkmenrah said, "It's time for you to go home, Rowen."  
  


Weakly, Rowena protested. "No! Please...I want to stay." Somehow her hands slowly clung onto her robes, almost clambering up to him.  
  


"You need to sleep." He spoke in her ear. "Larry?"  
  


Rowena adjusted her eyes, seeing another standing by the door.  
  


"I'll take her home." The voice - assuming it was Larry’s - said.  
  


She then heard Ahkmenrah ask, "Actually, may I come with you?"  
  


"Sure."  
  


Her body was then slowly picked up with ease, her jacket strewn over her front and everything began to fade into black.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She was dreaming again. This time, Rowena was not sure of it. There were gentle whispers close to her ear, and their breaths brushing against her skin.  
  


Her body was floating on a cloud, feeling the softness of the material underneath her. As she tried to flex her fingers out, she forced her eyes to open but to no avail.  
  


"Ahk...Ahk..." She called out.  
  


She felt a presence hover next to her.  
  


"Shush, Rowen." They spoke. Reassurance in the tone of their voice.  
  


Rowena breathed, "Please don't go..."  
  


A finger caressed her cheek. Callous and yet it moulded into her jaw.  
  


"I have to go, **_mer ek_**. I will see you next evening." They whispered back, reassuring her worries.  
  


However, it was not enough. Not for her.  
  


"Say it...say it." She pleaded.  
  


They replied, "Say what?"  
  


She began to tear up, scrunching her face as she answered. "Forgive me. Forgive me please..."  
  


Then their lips pressed over her forehead.  
  


"I forgive you, Rowen Bates."  
  


When the words left their lips, her muscles relaxed, and her body felt a weight over her be lifted gently. And with a gentle sigh, Rowena slept soundly after so many years.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Leslie V  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

"Who was at the door last night?"  
  


Leslie looked up from her phone to find Garret placing his lanyard and keys on the island table. He dressed already for work, having started his job at an Archaeological and Antiquities firm. She couldn't remember the name, but she'll ask again when he wasn't rushing to catch a less busy train.  
  


"Rowen and her colleagues." She said quietly and added: "She uh...spent the night alone."  
  


Garret gave a surprised look before giving her a glance of sympathy. "Man... that’s rough." He asked, "Are you going to stay?"  
  


"Obviously." Leslie nodded. "I'll just call the hospital that I'll get Sarah to do my shift. They'll understand."  
  


"Of course, they would. You're top of the class, Les." His warm eyes made her chest swell. He did not have to constantly mention it considering how much he heard it from his dad. But it helped ease Garret into her family once they came home to spend Thanksgiving together.  
  


Since she was staying at home, she helped him get ready to head out. She tossed his jacket at his direction by the door as she walked up to him.  
  


Leslie wondered, "How long are you going to be at the office? Kai's been asking if you wanted to go out to just have drinks."  
  


Grabbing it with ease, he checked his phone and nodded. "Oh yeah! Yeah, I got his text just this morning." He then put his phone in his pocket and added, "Once I'm done at the Agency, I'll meet up with him. Don't worry too much, Leslie."  
  


She shook her head and grinned. Even if he said it, they both know she was going to worry to some degree. Leslie could only assure him by words, "I won't. Have a good day."  
  


He pressed his lips against hers. Leslie felt another surge of warmth fill her, a feeling she has had ever since she fell head over heels with the man in front of him. She smiled under the kiss and answered him, "You too."  
  


As he waved goodbye before he hopped down the brownstone steps and strode down the street. Once he was a few houses down, Leslie shut the door quietly. She did not want to wake Rowen at this time of day, considering how she assured Rowen's friends that she would not wake up probably until the afternoon.  
  


Well, friend seemed a bit of an understatement with the tanned-skin man. He felt to be a good person in her eyes, someone that she knew was perhaps perfect for her petite friend. How he was careful and attentive to Rowen last night, and how he would ask her if he could help.  
  


' _God, I wish they're together_ ,' Leslie thought to herself, wishing it had been true. By the looks of things, it seemed that it was a complicated situation.  
  


However, she could not deny the love that filled the man's face.  
  


The man was in love with Rowen and she did not know.  
  


' _Man, that's rough buddy._ ' She said to herself, putting some food for Leo in his bowl. The feline purred as she caressed her hand over his back. She decided that she would sort out some admin work for her research paper for next week for the time being.  
  


A couple of hours later, Leslie decided to check up on her friend. She already felt bad that her friend was going to get the worse hangover from the outcome last night. So, with some painkillers and water in her hand, she headed up to Rowen's old room.  
  


Pushing the door with her back, she leaned her head in and found the figure slowly toss in the bed. How in the world was she already awake?  
  


Quietly as possible, she crept up to the side of Rowen's bed and sat slowly onto the bed. At the same time, the woman slowly stirred awake, blinking her eyes before squinting at the brightness of the room.  
  


Rowen let out a quiet groan.  
  


"You okay?" Leslie asked, placing the glass of water onto the table and began popping out a couple of tablets from the package.  
  


She muttered, "Time...Time."  
  


"Ten in the morning." She said, her tone impressed by how Rowen was holding up. She experienced many of her friends passing out drunk and waking up until it was three in the afternoon. So, with Rowen easily getting up at ten in the morning was an amazing feat.  
  


With another groan, she propped herself up with her arms and furrowed her brows at Leslie.  
  


"L-Leslie?" She asked, "H-How did I get here?"  
  


She smirked, "Well, you tell me first."  
  


All she got was a look of bemusement.  
  


Rowen spoke, "I can't remember...but I was at the museum...and I drank."  
  


Leslie rolled her eyes, "That's an understatement."  
  


It was then she passed the tablet into her hand and pointed at the glass. With a mutter of thanks, Rowen swallowed the tablets with the aid of water washing it down her throat.  
  


She croakily spoke, "And... either I drove _really_ good or walked well to yours. Or..."  
  


"Or?"  
  


"Or someone took me home." And that was when Rowen was hit with a realisation. She slapped her hand over her forehead and moaned - throwing her head back onto the pillow. "Oh, my gods..."  
  


Chuckling, Leslie wondered: "You don't often drink?"  
  


"I do, just not alone whilst my friends watch my drunk arse do things I regret." She had her hands over her face, hiding it as it grew pink. "I must have been an embarrassment..."  
  


It was there Leslie could not help but admit, "Well, you kind of kept calling at the hot Middle Eastern dude."  
  


Rowena's eyes widened.  
  


"What!" She exclaimed.  
  


Bursting out laughing, Leslie grinned from ear to ear. She was not going to live by the end of this.  
  


"What did I say?" She demanded.  
  


Leslie wafted her hand and assured: "Nothing too embarrassing. I think it was _extremely_ sweet."  
  


"Ugh!"  
  


Rowen threw herself back once more, clutching the pillow over her face. Patting her arm, Leslie stood up and picked up the glass of water. She would need to give her another painkiller eventually food and caffeine.  
  


"Get some more sleep, Ro. They didn't do anything bad, and they brought your car back." Leslie said. "Once your hangover has dulled down, you can head home."  
  


Removing the pillow, Rowen sighed heavily and returned with a tired smile.   
  


"Thank you, Leslie." She muttered and closed her eyes as her head hit the pillow - a smile never leaving her face.  
  


With a grin, Leslie shut the door before she squealed. It would seem that her friend shared the same feelings for him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Edited 11/2020]: Currently tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	30. Drowning in Dreams [Ahkmenrah]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the previous chapter, we take part in Ahkmenrah's footsteps and his side of the story.
> 
> As well as this, Ahkmenrah and Leslie Carter finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the Kudos and Hits. Hope you guys enjoy :)

** Ahkmenrah VIII  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

"Oh, _ma Apollona_! What on _terra_ are you doing, Egyptian?"  
  


A voice cried, shocked by how their breath cut off the moment she appeared in his eyesight.  
  


"The whole place is littered by paper...and are these maps?"  
  


He eyed upwards, spotting the Greek Muse pick up one of the modern maps and held it up to examine it. He grunted and glanced back down to what he was studying, which had been the latest southern hemisphere star charts.  
  


He could have sworn that he told the Jackals to barricade the entrance of his exhibit.  
  


For the past few weeks, he confined himself in the same room every night. All apart from Saturdays when he had no choice but to give talks and tours to the visitors coming in. After eleven in the night and clean up ensued after Larry's meeting: he would seclude himself back into his wing and stay there for the rest of the evening.  
  
  


That was why he was here: occupying his nights reading and analysing various things. Most of it was astronomy and astrophysics and catching up on fifty-six years of knowledge he had not picked up since Cambridge.  
  


Even the thought of Cambridge gave another wound in his chest.  
  


Everything, from the silence and the darkroom to the noises he could hear down the hall. Many of the exhibits came in for the first few days after that night. The first person that came was Teddy, who usually waited for him at the entrance. That then stopped after he pleaded for the president to give him some space. The president silently accepted but not before letting him know he was free to talk.  
  


Then came Sacagawea and Larry, and those two were the hardest to push away.  
  


Larry would pester until something in his head would snap and make him shout back whilst Sacagawea would give him sad looks, almost wanting to speak but never would. Ahkmenrah instantly regretted it and apologised, only earning a sympathetic look.  
  


He hated it. The worried glances and the sad smiles they wore. He brushed off the times Sacagawea tried to hug him and ignored Jedediah and Octavius coming in with their monster truck.  
  


Even Dexter and Attila came, and he kindly turned down their offers to spend the night with them to play football or watch a magic show.  
  


He needed to be alone just for once. To mourn and to pass his anger.  
  


Ahkmenrah did not know how to feel. His chest felt like it got cut open and his heart was punched directly by a fist. If Khafre were here, he would gladly do it before ripping his heart out and stabbing it with a dagger. That was what he felt like. Maybe equivalent to the feeling of death.  
  


Every moment he would drift off to the conversation. Seeing her eyes morph into anger into disappointment.  
  


He had scared her. But his anger could not match the pain and anguish he had on hearing Peggy's death.  
  


Margaret Bates. The little girl with the brown curls and big amber eyes that shone like jewels under the light. The one who would giggle every time he told stories he heard as a child and ones he read in books. The one that promised to protect him and the Tablet. His little guardian.  
  


Now she would never be able to see him again.  
  


Time ripped him away from the only person that gave him a purpose. That led him to believe that he could become a good protector, a good guardian. Peggy was dead; she was dead for fifteen years and he did not know.  
  


The night he discovered her death, he felt like he emptied every tear duct in him. Sorrow enveloped him. He did not even feel his body slowly die during the process on sunrise. But why? Why did he feel so responsible for her? He wasn't hers...he wasn't her father.  
  


But those few years with her felt like he was one. A father. Yes, he died with no suitor or love, but somehow that moment he was given a task to care for someone: he thought he was handed the world in his fingertips.  
  


_She_ trusted him with her daughter.  
  


But now: could he even trust her back?  
  


Thalia hummed, seeming to be impressed. "I did not know you indulged in these sorts of things, Ahkmenrah. Astronomy is not really my sorts. Though I do enjoy a good stargazing night. Clio might, and maybe Calliope...but I think she'll just continuously make poems out of the constellations."  
  


Suddenly, something inside of him burst.  
  


"Just go away!"  
  


He saw Thalia startled, placing down the map slowly as they kept eye contact.  
  


With a large exhale, he raked his hair and stammered, "I... I’m sorry."  
  


"Yeah, I know. I know you don't mean it, Egyptian." The Greek Muse nodded, assuring him that there was no harm done. Though, the fidgeting and awkward rubbing on her arms told him it was the latter.  
  


And yet he continued, "I really am, I just...just..."  
  


"Trying to distract yourself?"  
  


From the expression she gave him, he could tell from his rugged appearance and hostility that it was rather obvious. He sighed in defeat, "Thalia...I appreciate you checking on me but please just give me some space."  
  


She held her hands up and stepped backwards, slowly edging to the entrance. "Alright. Alright, look I'm not...we're not close.” Thalia exhaled. “But we're here for you, Ahkmenrah. Believe us, just come out when you're up for it, alright?"  
  


"Yeah...yeah..." He trailed off. For a few seconds, he stared at her blankly until Thalia nodded and exited his exhibit.  
  


Another breath left his lips and he returned to his maps.  
  


However, the silence didn't last long as he heard the clicking of familiar shoes. Since he was sitting on the bench by the column, he saw the shadow cover his work from the light.  
  


"I think Thalia had the right mind," Larry spoke calmly. "You need to talk to someone, Ahk."  
  


"I don't need to talk...I need to indulge myself back into a hobby." He raised his map at Larry. "As Thalia said, stars and planets."  
  


He heard several shuffling of paper as Larry spoke, "Usually we would use the stars to enjoy one's company. Not dig themselves deeper into a pit of their mind." Then his tone changed, "Ahk, I know what's been going on. Well...half of it."  
  


Ahkmenrah stopped.  
  


Did Larry know? Did he speak to her...  
  


He raised his eyes at the night guard. "I... did Rowen ever tell you?" He questioned, his voice breaking every second. "That...that."  
  


Soon enough, Larry sat down next to him and murmured, "Hey, easy. Take a steady breath."  
  


Those few moments, Ahkmenrah focused his mind to steady his breath. Letting the tight in his chest loosen slightly. Once he stopped breath hard, he then stuttered.  
  


"If I said...what would happen if...If your son passed away before you?" He stared straight into Larry's eyes as he asked, "What would you do?"  
  


There was a confused look his face as Larry replied, "What? Why is that..." He then widened his eyes and relaxed, "Oh..."  
  


Ahkmenrah knew that he understood what he meant. The key indication of how Larry stiffened his posture was obvious.  
  


"Right...wow...I mean...I knew she had a daughter, but she always talked about her as if she's alive." Larry raggedly spoke, exhaling. "And... and..."  
  


Ahkmenrah saw him take a final sigh.  
  


"I guess I would do the same."  
  


His mind then paused. Did he hear what Larry just said correctly?  
  


"Ahk." Larry brought him back.  
  


"How?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "How can you lie to yourself?"  
  


Flustered and frustrated, the night guard raked his fingers over his hair. It took a moment for Larry to recollect his thoughts.  
  


"...Because when you lose someone that you care about, you pretend that they're still there. That they're still alive and in your life." Larry revealed. "Maybe she has accepted her daughter passed, but maybe she wasn't thinking about how it would affect others."  
  


Ahkmenrah still could not get his head around it. Like his brother and father's death, he accepted their deaths quickly. He couldn't remember a time that he did deny their deaths. Perhaps it was because there was not much time to mourn. His father was dead but not long enough due to the work of the tablet. Well, his father was stuck in the pyramids keeping the tablet safe whilst he was off near the Sinai but that was it.  
  


As for his brother's death: it was so quick he that couldn't remember the funeral. All his advisors wanted was for him to become king as soon as possible and stop their family's enemies from destroying the kingdom.  
  


Rowena on the other hand: had over a decade to mourn for her daughter. She didn't die two years after Peggy - like what happened to him.  
  


"I think she didn't want to hurt you anymore," Larry spoke.  
  


"...They wanted me to go here, just me. My parents were being sent to the British Museum for display. When I heard the news, I was angry, confused and upset. I thought I was seeing a liar." Ahkmenrah said, his emotions spilling out into his confession. "How can I? _I'm_ a liar too.”  
  


He expected the wariness growing in the nightguard, but only found Larry to look at him blankly.  
  


Ahkmenrah continued, “I've lied to my brother, my parents, my family. I have lied the number of times I said I found a good suitor; lied that I didn't hurt myself; lied that I couldn't truly kill someone in front of me."  
  


He breathed and wiped the tear from his cheek. Ahkmenrah said, "But to be lied to, I realised why it hurts to be on the receiving end. It was like looking at a face that I never knew existed."  
  


A hand was placed on his shoulder.  
  


"Ahk. Look..." Larry began, "People lie for many reasons. May it be for image and selfishness. But Rowen did it to make sure you couldn't hurt whilst you're still mending."  
  


He looked away.  
  


He was not sure if he was broken. Did the years trapped in a box led him to this? A broken man?  
  


"You've been in a box for decades, that doesn't just speak of a small problem. It leaves a huge mental issue for you whether you deny it or not." Larry explained, "In modern times we call it trauma, or PTSD. And to be honest: both of you have it. You and Rowen have gotten through _so much_ shit."  
  


He sniffed. So much seemed more of a mere understatement. He would never admit the number of times he would bang against the lid of his sarcophagus, the number of times he would cry until he would sleep, letting his dreams give him some solace. It was pathetic for him. He should be brave enough to stand being in a cage. Even if the cage was his deathbed.  
  


"And all Rowen's tried - and slightly fail - to do is to make sure you heal first. She wanted you to make sure you feel better, not because you think it was for her own." Larry assured. "Maybe so, but I don't think she'd approach you and tell you it after getting out and having to chase someone to bring the Tablet back."  
  


Then, Ahkmenrah slowly turned his eyes to the night guard. Larry Daley: the only one that dared to let him out of his cage. The man that has made sure he was well and never hesitated to ask him if he needed time to get in his sarcophagus. The same man that shared key moments with his son and trusted his presence with Nick.  
  


"You're a good man, Ahk." He smiled sincerely. "You've given this place so much. A peacekeeper and a genuine part of the museum."  
  


He spluttered out a mix between a sob and a laugh.  
  


"Thank you, Larry." He whispered, placing his hand over his shoulder. "For this."  
  


The night guard nodded and patted his shoulder - a smile resting on his lips.  
  


"No problem. Just making sure my friend is okay." Larry then got up, though not without eyeing the scattered maps all over the floor. He asked, "But uh, where did you get these maps?"  
  


As much as he felt much better, Ahkmenrah didn't want to ruin the moment by telling him where he found them. Rowen taught him how to lockpick doors and didn't stop him from taking an access card from Larry's security room and using it to open the archives downstairs.  
  


No, he'll let Larry know eventually.  
  


Ahkmenrah sheepishly replied, "Oh right...uh...I will return them at some point."  
  


Larry blinked before exiting the exhibit. All he could hear was him muttering about getting a better lock for his room.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

A few weeks came round and Ahkmenrah slowly came out of his shell. He found the rest of the exhibits having movie night which happened once a fortnight. They were watching a new action movie that featured a flying man in a red metal suit made of iron. He also made inventions, similar to what Larry previously did - until he sold his company and got his night guard position.  
  


Once the movie was over, and clean-up was completed: Ahkmenrah decided that was the right time to approach the person he had been avoiding for over a month or so. He made sure to ask Larry if she was in, and he answered back with a nod only warning him that she might not be entirely sober.  
  


Something clicked in his head and he looked at Rowen's office door in concern. Why was she at the museum alone…and drinking?  
  


' _Father and Kahmun used to drink if they're stressed or upset,_ ' He told himself. ' _Maybe that's the reason._ '  
  


Then a voice inside the back of his mind spoke, ' _Or maybe she's drinking because she wants to forget all of the things she said about what happened. She's upset because you got mad at her._ '  
  


Guilt began to build up in his chest. Did he do this? Make her turn her back from everyone else?  
  


He knocked several times but not a word was uttered, only muffling tunes of music. In the end, Ahkmenrah opened the door and found her dancing by herself in the middle of the room. A gramophone was perched on one of the drawers, playing a quiet tune of a song he remembered. The first song her listened to when she introduced to him what a record was.  
  


There was no hesitation as Rowen began clinging onto him, moving him to a gentle sway as she sobbed in his chest. His whole body warmed up, flustered by how close she was. Her head on his chest as she muttered things under her breath.  
  


They swayed until the song came to a halt, and the small sniffs were all was left. Ahkmenrah, however, heard his heart pumping against the walls of his ribs. His breath was deepening, wanting to pull her in and yet push her away at the same time.  
  


Is this what it was like?  
  


' _You have dug so deep, Ahkmen_ ,' A voice like his brother echoed in his head. ' _You already fell years before in Cambridge. You just didn't acknowledge it until now_.'  
  


Was it true?  
  


Had he already fallen in love with the woman in his arms?  
  


Just as he began to sink into his thoughts, Larry knocked inside the office and found Rowen almost clung onto him like Dexter. The night guard suggested for Rowen to go home and get some sleep despite her protests.  
  


He could not leave her now. Not yet. And not when she was vulnerable from the outside world. Larry then agreed for him to come along: carrying Rowen with him after he got changed into his modern clothes.  
  


Rowen often took him out several nights a couple of years ago around New York. She would show him the new things he missed from the past fifty years, going ice skating to eating Italian cuisine in restaurants. Those little pockets of moments gave a taste of the world outside the museum for him.  
  


And also, a moment to spent time with her as well.  
  


They used Rowen's car, letting Larry drive as he and Rowen sat at the back.  
  


A few minutes into the journey, Ahkmenrah noticed that the scenery was different. He questioned, "I thought we're going to Rowen's?"  
  


Larry answered, "Not good when she's intoxicated."  
  


A groan came from next to him, and he had to try and keep Rowen from completely falling face into the seat in front of her. So, he grabbed her by the shoulders, carefully tucking her body under his arm. If he wore his usual clothes, he would have used his robe to keep her warm. Though all they got was her coat which didn't seem to help either way.  
  


"What about you? Surely Nick and Rebecca are at home?" He asked Larry.  
  


He spotted him shake his head and he interjected, "Rebecca is at her parents' place and Nicky is with Erica. No, we're going to her friend's place."  
  


It was another ten minutes of driving through the streets of New York. Rowena had fallen asleep, fully passed out from what she consumed. It still baffled him how much the petite woman could drink at such a size. He could not even hold his liquor that well; a few cups of wine would already bring him tipsy.  
  


Larry then stopped the car by the side of the road, finding a free space between two cars. When the engine stopped purring, Ahkmenrah unbuckled Rowen after his and muttered to her. Though, all he got was a gentle snore and shut eyes. She was truly passed out.  
  


Kind of reminded him of when his brother returned to the royal wing after a festival: passed out in a column right next to his room. He couldn't even reach his bed if Ahkmenrah hadn't found him and lugged him inside and tucked him into his bed.  
  


So here he was, carrying Rowen up the steps of a home he wasn't sure who lived in. He has seen these types of buildings before, having been to Rowen’s once for one of their nights out of the museum. He did know which friend of Rowen's Larry spoke of. It was the only one that somehow came up in question after the Battle of the Smithsonian.  
  


Pressing the doorbell, they waited at the top of the stairs until the heard several clicks of clocks.  
  


Opening the door, was a woman.  
  


She was dressed what seemed to be nightwear, with a cardigan over it. Her hair was the colour of red flames, something which estranged Ahkmenrah with curiosity. He had never seen such a shade of colour for hair. Like flames, it was unruly and untamed from bed rest. Nothing like he had seen from any foreigner back in his original time.  
  


The first thing Larry said was this: "Hi. Leslie Carter?"  
  


This must have been Rowen's friend and Howard's great-granddaughter. By the facial features, there were some similarities in them. The blue eyes were obvious, icy and light but lit up with confusion and surprise.  
  


"Yes. Hello?" She said, folding her arms over her.  
  


Larry then awkwardly asked. "Hi, sorry to bother you but could we come in?" He then stepped to the side, revealing Ahkmenrah and an unconscious Rowen.  
  


Her jaw dropped. "Holy crap. What happened?" Leslie clamped her mouth and she then repeated it in a whisper. Her eyes then narrowed at him, and then to the night guard.  
  


Larry explained back, "Don't worry, she's just passed out." He added, "Drank a lot at work."  
  


"So that's why she hasn't been getting my texts." The young woman commented. "Christ. Well come in; put her on the couch. I'm going to grab some things just in case she took a lot."  
  


"Thanks," Larry replied.  
  


Ushering them in, Ahkmenrah carried Rowen through the door and thanked Leslie with a mutter. She then closed the door and walked hurriedly past them. He ignored the similar style the young Carter woman had for a house, too focused on Rowen as he went into what seemed to be a living space.  
  


Kneeling, he placed Rowen gently over the sofa and took off her jacket - placing it over her body. As he brushed her hair away, he found the red-haired figure kneel next to him.  
  


"Put her head on the side. It'll make sure she doesn't choke on her vomit." Leslie instructed and then looked up and asked, "Hey, could you make this cloth damp? Coldwater would be good."  
  


Larry nodded and disappeared into the house to follow the instruction. When he turned his head back, he found Leslie placing the back of her palm on Rowen's forehead. A serious face over her as she then placed two fingers over her neck for a few seconds and hummed.  
  


"Is she going to be alright?" He questioned.  
  


She waved her hand. "Nothing more than just too many drinks." She then eyed him, "You don't seem drunk."  
  


Ahkmenrah admitted, "She was drinking without our knowledge."  
  


A sympathetic expression contorted on Leslie's face. "Must have been a bad day then." She then held her hand out, "I'm Leslie by the way."  
  


Taking her hand, he shook it carefully. "A-Adonis," He said.  
  


"Well, I wished we met in better circumstances." She smiled and pried, "How did you and Ro meet?"  
  


He wasn't entirely lying when he replied, "Oh...back in Cambridge."  
  


She smiled in amusement and asked back, "Oh. And you work at the museum?"  
  


"In a way. I teach visitors on the night shows." He lied, carefully choosing his tone of voice. To be honest, if he did say that he was truly a mummy: she would not believe him.  
  


Leslie's eyes lit up and she said, "Oh. That's pretty exciting. Is that what you were up to tonight?"  
  


"We were planning actually." He trailed off, "I knew she was in, but I didn't realise she would be..."  
  


"Yeah." Her eyes dulled, and she warmly replied. "But that's very...chivalrous of you."  
  


He wasn't sure what to think of Leslie Carter. From Rowen's stories about her, she was some sort of healer in training and was about to finish learning next year. Though character-wise, she seemed to be very concerned of her friends and was rather protective of them. The questions she asked seemed like a riddle - wanting to make sure he was telling the truth.  
  


For that, Ahkmenrah grew some respect for the woman in front of him.  
  


"Here."  
  


Larry returned; a cold damp cloth passed into Leslie's hands. She slowly placed it over Rowen's forehead. Standing up with her, Leslie patted her clothes down and eyed the two of them.  
  


"Temperature is quite high, but she won't wake up until tomorrow afternoon." She spoke softly, "You did the right thing bringing her here. It'll be dangerous to bring her back home alone."  
  


Ahkmenrah asked, "Do you need any more help?"  
  


"Bringing her upstairs to a bed will be great," Leslie thanked him as he picked her up again, making sure her head was supported by his hold. Once he was comfortable, Leslie guided him up the staircase to one of the floors.  
  


Assisting him with Rowen, Leslie held the door open for him to which appeared to be a bedroom. A double bed was perched on the back wall facing the rest of the room, and a large window that looked out onto the street. The colours were bland, nothing grand like gold or bright apart from the various picture hung onto the grey walls.  
  


He placed her down on the bed, slowly unlacing her shoes and tuning the duvet over her body. Immediately, her body shuddered from the feeling of the object laid over her and he began to panic. Did he do something wrong?  
  


His heart then sighed in relief as she calmed down, dozing back into a state of being awake and deep sleep.  
  


"Ahk...Ahk..." She moaned, turning to his side.  
  


He said, "Shush, Rowen." She needed sleep, knowing eventually how it would turn out in the morning. That was the only thing that made him flare in anger. He couldn't help her when the sun comes up.  
  


Ahkmenrah wanted to stay to make sure she was alright when she woke up. The only way he could know was tomorrow evening, and if Larry or Rebecca get a message from her if she was fine. Only he could put his trust in Leslie Carter, and he knew from Rowen's stories that the woman was in the profession to keep her safe.  
  


Rowen pleaded, shaking her head. "Please don't go, Ahk..."  
  


He traced her cheek with his hand, somehow soothing her with the movement. Ahkmenrah murmured, "I have to go, **_mer ek_**. I will see you next evening."  
  


"Say it..."  
  


"Say what?" He asked, his heart skipping a beat.  
  


Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she struggled to say back, "Forgive me..."  
  


He swallowed the bile down his throat.  
  


The last words escaped his lips. "I forgive you, Rowen Bates."  
  


Face inches near to hers, he pressed his lips lightly onto her forehead. Ahkmenrah felt the room spinning as his lips touched her skin, a storm of sand brewing in his head as his stomach flipped. He wasn't sure why he was feeling like this. Never had his heart felt so heavy under his weight for many years.  
  


All the anger that had bubbled and simmered dissipated, leaving almost a numb sense within him. He couldn't understand if he truly meant what he said. Though how quick and unhesitant he was countered it back.  
  


Once he leaned back, her eyebrows began to relax, and her eyelids relaxed from being scrunched. A sigh left her parted lips and before then she was fast asleep.  
  


He rose from his position and added, "May the gods keep you safe in your dreams, **_mer ek_**." Turning his head away, his eyes caught over to the object sitting on the small table by the bed.  
  


On top was a frame, with a monochromatic photo held by the glass. He studied it closer and noticed who was in the photo.  
  


It was Rowen, with Howard Carter and another man that seemed familiar, but he could not get it from the tip of his tongue. Their smiles on their faces towards the camera made his lips twitch before he looked away finally.  
  


He nodded to Larry, who stood with Leslie at the door and approached the two. Though, he couldn't help but turn around, wishing he wasn't dreaming that Rowen was there. They shut the door and Leslie guided them back down into the front bit of the house.  
  


"Thank you," Larry said with an apologetic smile.  
  


But before Larry could add, Leslie crossed her arms and smiled. "No problem. What we always do for friends."  
  


Ahkmenrah smiled and bowed his head, a habit he did despite the raised eyebrow from her and the warning look Larry gave him. He caught himself from speaking, only to nod and shake her hand one last time.  
  


The two descended the steps, prepared to return to the museum until they heard a voice call back.  
  


"Hey, um. I'm glad that she's got you two." Leslie called out from the front door, leaning her body to the frame. She smiled warmly at him, "I think sometimes being the only young person in the job is pretty lonely. People don't tend to take you seriously."  
  


Smiling back, he replied. "Thank you, Leslie."  
  


Kindness has always been so rare for him, and even during this day and era: Ahkmenrah found himself to be lucky for discovering the diamond in the rough. Like Larry, like Leslie, the exhibits...and Rowen herself. And tonight, he was given kindness from a stranger no doubt. Someone that could have stopped him from being inches away from the woman that he had hurt.  
  


The Carter younger did something that showed Ahkmenrah how he truly meant to Rowen Bates.  
  


And that he would forgive her in time. No matter how long they lived and how many lives they had. Ahkmenrah promised himself he would come to understand.  
  


"Hey, you good?"  
  


Cut off from his thoughts, Larry nudged him by the shoulder. He nodded and spoke, "Yes, I'm fine."  
  


“Anything happened?” He asked.  
  


Ahkmenrah stopped and bit the inside of his mouth. He then shook his head. “No. She was fine.”  
  


Larry replied, “Okay. Let’s head back before you turn into dust.”  
  


They hopped back into Rowen's car, a small part of the weight on his shoulder lifted by the truth he told. Because not that he would come to understand who Joanna Bates was; Ahkmenrah would try and understand who Rowena Clarke was in past and for the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second half of Rowena's drunk trip. And Eeeeekk Leslie and Ahkmenrah finally meet! And I'm so happy they got to meet after so many chapters even though Leslie will know him as Adonis.
> 
> I couldn't help use some Greek Mythology. Adonis was a lover of Aphrodite and Persephone but was killed by a wild boar. So Aphrodite asked Zeus to allow Adonis to spend half of the year with her and year in the underworld. This kind of ironically plays with Ahkmenrah's own immortality as he's dead during the day but alive in the night.
> 
> Just some lovely play on words to keep with the vibe and themes of the story.
> 
> And the idea of Thalia was kind of unintentional but gave some breather to allow more women in the story. Thalia is the Muse of Comedy in Mythology (but also a character from Percy Jackson which I love) so I expected her to be more free and relaxed in comparison to her other two sisters.
> 
> The Larry and Ahk scene also has to be the most wholesome thing I've written. I know people ship them hard in some cases but I thought the two should have a strong bond as Larry did let Ahk out. I think Larry sees the struggles he had in Ahk at this age (around the early 20s) and knows well that sometimes it's hard to comprehend people's actions.
> 
> [Edited 11/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	31. Can't Help falling in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rowena and Ahkmenrah reconcile and finally talk.
> 
> And a recurring face reveals something to Rowena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update tonight because I won't have time to post this tomorrow (as I'm away and I won't be near a computer). But this chapter has to be the closest to a very intimate scene. Please bear with me that I've never written a scene like this. And let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Thank you for reaching over 900 hits and almost to 50 kudos. I love the support you all have. Enjoy :)

** Rowena XXVII  
  
**

**_1950 - Cambridge  
  
_ **

From the moment when they danced for the first time together - Rowena realised that she was falling in love with him.  
  


Why they were dancing was a different story, which included a TV and herself tapping her feet along the way to Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus to let him out for that evening. She found him already up, curiously looking at her as she tapped her foot over the stony floor in rhythm. That gave her a brilliant idea to give the pharaoh a taste of 20th Century technology.  
  


There was a television in the laboratory, which Hector put after he got bored constantly labelling finds into boxes. With both their money plus the other staff who used the lab, they had a television to share.  
  


Most of the time it was kept on for background noise, having various music shows or films up as they worked through a day of research. During the evenings, she would begin showing Ahkmenrah all the different shows that came up and explaining to him briefly some of the modern slang they spoke.  
  


He enjoyed the comedy shows despite unsure of the punchline. Perhaps it was how the audience laughed along that made it amusing for him. Either way, it was not what got them dancing in the open floor in the college.  
  


It was _Come Dancing_ which fascinated the Egyptian mummy, wondering what the pair were doing across the ballroom. And why the man wore all black whilst the woman wore a large puffy gown with short, heeled shoes. How the music came out from the TV in a static way but still allowed him to understand how they moved along with it.  
  


Therefore, the following night, Rowena decided to bring a pair of her dance shoes from her boarding house and some dance shoes for him. She took the gramophone from her office and set up some music suitable for several types of dancing. Most were ones that Ahkmenrah were already familiar, so she hoped he would understand the style.  
  


"What are these?" He held the shoes up in his hands.  
  


Rowena walked over to where he stood and gestured him to sit down on the chair. Taking the pair of dance shoes from him, she knelt by his feet and explained, "These are shoes for dancing." She sheepishly added: "It's more comfortable to use as these won't hurt if I accidentally step on you."  
  


With a curt nod, she held her hand out to his feet and began changing his sandals for a pair of socks and the dance shoes.  
  


He questioned back, "Why would you step on my feet?"  
  


Once they were tied up securely, Rowena stood up and slipped hers on next whilst she replied, "As much as I know several types of dance, I have not practised ballroom in years."  
  


"You danced as a child?"  
  


"How old do you believe I am?" She asked amusedly.  
  


As he tested the footwear, he looked at them with a glimmer in his eyes. Ahkmenrah answered after he inspected them, "Around your twenties? Twenty... twenty-two?"  
  


For a moment, she forgot that the man in front of her didn't know the truth of her condition. Three years since he came to life due to the golden tablet and the evidence of magic never really crossed her mind into asking about her condition. She has asked many times about her key to him but never has she approached his parents about it.  
  


Speaking of age, perhaps with a five-year-old toddler running about made things less suspicious of her unageing appearance. Ahkmenrah had never questioned it, and when it was mentioned as of now: Rowena was unsure how to respond. She has tried to dress up appropriately, masking herself as a professor and a mother at the same time.  
  


But the way he sheepishly answered back, trying to make sure it wouldn't offend her, made Rowena feel her heart skip a beat. Many things recently have made her heart race: especially when it came to the presence of the Egyptian.  
  


"That's rather flattering, your majesty." She glanced over at him and grinned. There was a tint of pink on his cheeks, hidden by the dim lights or the warm colours of the lightbulbs.  
  


He coughed and changed the subject. "So, these shoes, they will help me from not being hurt?"  
  


"Exactly." Rowena hummed in agreement and slipped a record player onto the gramophone.  
  


Placing the needle carefully onto the grooves, the record began to turn, and the music echoed around the room. She ushered him towards the middle of the room, guiding him to place his hands where it should be with confidence.  
  


He hesitated, a glance of permission to her before he placed his hand on her waist. A warm feeling tingled up from where his hand pressed against her side, and her heart could have lurched forward if there wasn't a ribcage encasing it. She quickly placed her own over his shoulder, having to reach upwards onto his beaded garment. She was only glad that he was much taller than her since she used this as an advantage to look down.  
  


They held their right hands together, intertwining their fingers into a lock. Taking a deep breath, Rowena continued to explain how to time their movement and feet. Once he gave a nod of understanding, she began to lead him.  
  


Ballroom dancing was never her favourite style of dancing as a child. Every boy or man she met and paired with had always chosen her because they had no choice but to do so. They would ignore her face, making a noise of disgust as they trudged onto the dancefloor. They would lead her, no: _drag_ her across the ballroom like she was some ragdoll. There was no art of grace in their dances, but disgrace and disrespect.  
  


It was why she preferred ballet or any solo dances. It gave her a sense of peace whenever there was a time or moment to give herself up from reality and dance in her dreams. So why did dancing with Ahkmenrah felt so different?  
  


Perhaps it was the fact that she was teaching him, aiding him on the art rather than having two well-professed dancers. However, that was not the case. Ahkmenrah was a fast learner and must have been a good fighter due to his footwork.  
  


No. Rowena saw something more. She felt eased around him, she felt that she wasn't just leading or being dragged about. They were dancing together, and no one was leading each other about.  
  


"That's it, you're getting it." She grinned, glancing upwards to see his reactions.  
  


His face was relaxed, his mouth parted as he breathed in delight. "Indeed. I feel like I'm gliding through the air."  
  


The second her eyes found his face once more, the music muted in her ears. Her heart was pounding, hearing it vibrate in her mind as an unnerving feeling swirled inside her. Butterflies in her stomach was a way to describe it, a phrase which Rowena learnt a few decades back.  
  


What was this feeling? And why now? Did his face seem as appealing before? How his skin was flawless, no blemish or speckle. Unlike hers which was dotted with dark freckles lining her the bridge of her nose. His eyes, which were a mixture of brown and amber, that glimmered under the warm light. Somehow in her head, she imagined him with blue eyes instead - the colour of the sea and sky lined with amber or gold around the irises.  
  


"Joanna?" He asked.  
  


She realised that they stopped after she zoned out into her head.  
  


"Hm?" She hid back her cherry-tomato face and gulped back, "Oh, right sorry. Let's try another piece, shall we?"  
  


She put on another piece, something much livelier and continued their lessons. She decided to squash the thoughts that lingered in her mind. Because she knew that eventually, moments like these won't ever stay forever. Rowena would not lead herself down to a path that could never exist.  
  


Even if she lied to herself that there was more than she saw in Ahkmenrah than just a friend.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

The evenings were not as sorrowful as before for Rowena.  
  


She had gotten over the hump of sadness the morning she woke up in Leslie and Garrett's home, having the worse hangover that ever existed. Even the alcohol which she had decades ago couldn't match the alcohol they had today, now with companies being ever so creative and ambitious in their drinks.  
  


Leslie, Larry and her housekeeper have removed any alcohol from her grasp when she got home. No whiskey or wine or even beer to keep herself from thinking too deep and getting no sleep. However, that was not the case. She started sleeping much better than she anticipated, having no qualm into seeing her nightmares before her.  
  


What filled her dreams were rather vivacious scenes of her and a certain Egyptian man. They were rather close in those scenes, perhaps even closer to when they would ballroom dance back in Cambridge twice a week.  
  


The intimate moments her dream self and Ahkmenrah had almost kept her in her sleep-state. Moments of when they would hug and cuddle in her New York home, to holding hands down in Central Park.  
  


Then there were the intimate dreams. Sometimes they would be in Cambridge, moments in her life when she was almost certain she wanted to kiss the man there and then. Either outside in the courtyard, the library or the lab.  
  


However, the scenes began to change. The Museum, like his exhibit, or her office. It wasn't that visually shocking; a lot of kissing and snogging which turned to heated teasing. But before anything got more intense, she would wake up - sweating and delirious from what she dreamt. ' _His lips on hers, slowly trailing down her body...'  
  
_

Rowena immediately removed the thought from her head and scrunched her face. Taking a deep breath, she told herself to calm down before continuing her job. Not that she spent the whole two hours finding documents for tomorrow's forensics team.  
  


' _Come on Clarke, you're just making thing ten times worse. He's supposed to be pissed at you!_ ' She told herself, ' _And do you know what you're doing? Fantasising about him about how skilful he is with his fingers-_ '  
  


If she had another hand to smack herself: she would. But unfortunately, her hands were rather busy holding up a box of files. The archives in the New York museum were luckily much smaller and only filled with mostly documents, journals and files. Some artefacts were lingering in safe cardboard boxes and the odd box of bones, but that was all.  
  


Instead, she dug herself into searching again, muttering in French to keep her head out of the gutter and look. Once she found the file for the Native American burial dig, Rowena put the box away back into the many shelves.  
  


The archives comprised of small aisles of shelves filled with books and boxes. It was harder to move about with such a heavy load, so once she put it away, she huffed once more. The only good thing was that this was the only place that gave her peace. None of the exhibits were allowed down here, something she implicated with Larry when they began working here. No one was allowed down here apart from her, Larry and Rebecca.  
  


So, when she heard a large bang of the metal door, Rowena's head quickly turned to the sound.  
  


Several patters of shoes (no…sandals?) and heavy deep breaths, she quickly clenched her fists and took on a defensive position just before the entrance of the aisle.  
  


Emerging from the main walkway was Ahkmenrah - wide-eyed and panting awfully hard.  
  


' _Indeed,_ ' She said inside and internally scolded herself. Hiding her blush, she relaxed her posture and looked at him worriedly.  
  


He questioned, "Rowen! Are you alright?"  
  


Okay, now she was confused. Why would he think she wasn't alright? And how on earth did he know out of all places she was down here? Perhaps he asked Larry, who she crossed paths with at the beginning of his shift. Though how he inspected that she was still downstairs was a mystery. She could be back in her office or in conservation for all possibility.  
  


Though arguing all the possible outcomes couldn't ignore the fact that Ahkmenrah was standing here, with no crown on his head and a dishevelled look by his attire.  
  


' _Running down a flight of stairs across a museum with a robe...and yet he still maintains a high level of attraction..._ ' Rowena mused and then told herself off.  
  


Instead, she shook the comment away and said, "Yes...? I'm fine." Rowen creased her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"  
  


His breath returned gradually, answering back: "They uh...they said you needed help and I came as soon as I could."  
  


Rowena raised an eyebrow. Who on earth thought it was amusing to send a pharaoh racing downstairs with the thought of her being in grave danger?  
  


However, Ahkmenrah soon realised what happened and scrunched his face sourly. "Now that I think about it, I think they..." He let out a growl and muttered, " ** _I am going to murder those two._** "  
  


"I'm afraid I don't understand." She cocked her head to the side and then the linkage struck.  
  


There were only two people who she suspected to rile him up in worry.  
  


"Oh!" A chuckle exited from her mouth as soon as she spotted Ahkmenrah curse in several languages, mostly in his native tongue. It would seem that a pair of certain exhibits thought to scare him. Why would it have been a rather different matter? But it didn't aid her from stopping her laughter.  
  


"Jedediah and Octavius!" He exasperated and placed his hands on his hips. " ** _This is not funny!_** "  
  


Rowena hid her grin behind her mouth. " ** _It's a bit funny._** " After replying in Egyptian, she calmed down and assured, "I'm sorry, hey. At least you didn't trip."  
  


Pressing a hand over his face, he rubbed it several times before sighing heavily. "I know, I know. This is terrible." He grumbled. "Honestly I am going to have some words with those two later on for worrying me."  
  


Her lips fell to a thin line and the air grew stagnant. "...You were worried." She stated.  
  


"I...I was." Ahkmenrah answered plainly and shifted his feet.  
  


Her heart fluttered at the thought and a tightness in her lungs made her speak in a high pitch voice. "Oh. Well, it's fine. I'm safe and sound." Rowena coughed to return to her tone. "Currently getting something for forensics tomorrow." She gestured by taking the file she placed on an empty shelf, waving it in front.  
  


There was a second in her that she panicked slightly whilst she tried to pass him out of the aisle and towards the desk in the middle of the main aisle. But once he noticed her gesture, he moved away to give her room to slide pass, her shoulder hitting him ever so lightly that she could have just stopped there and then. However, she did everything in her will not to do so, repeating to herself that it wasn't right and she wasn't thinking straight.  
  


She could only be proud of making her way towards the desk, putting down the file and starting to occupy herself through sorting them out in order of need. It didn't stop him, though, from following her like a shadow behind her - and stood by her side quietly.  
  


A few moments later, he murmured. "Perhaps you should take a break. I've seen you every night around the museum. Have you even slept recently?" Concern was written over him, and she could've sworn he moved slightly towards her.  
  


"A bit." She admitted and added, "With a bit of caffeine, I'm usually alright for three or so days."  
  


A frown crossed his lips as he said, "That's not good for you. Immortal or not."  
  


She gave Ahkmenrah a raised eyebrow, surprised that he would just say something like that. Sarcastically, she answered him. "I already hear this from my housekeeper, though I appreciate your concern, your majesty-"  
  


"We are back to titles now, are we?"  
  


From the immediate tone she received, Rowena gave him a look.  
  


"I'm not sure." She replied the same nonchalant tone. She buried away from the anger slowly simmering up to the surface.  
  


"Rowen-"  
  


Inhaling through his nose, she placed the stack of papers a bit too harshly onto the tablet. The desk reverberated once she stopped. Rowena spoke with a tightened tone, "You are trying my patience, so I suggest you head back upstairs."  
  


"Then Lady Rowen, how would you like it if I say that?" He took a step toward her, asking her back.  
  


_'No please, keep saying my name like that.'  
  
_

Rowena thought and snapped at herself. But on the outside, she turned to him and flashed her eyes with a warning. "Is that a threat?" She questioned. "You seemed to rather like bossing people about, considering you shouted at me the other night."  
  


Ahkmenrah opened his mouth and rushed. "And I apologise for the actions that I've done that evening." He reached his hand out, and croakily spoke. "Rowen please-"  
  


"I was mourning alright!" Rowena snapped back. "I was mourning for her because I lost her so recently. Recent for the both of us considering we're technically as old the shit I'm holding!”  
  


She wanted to laugh at her joke, but all she did was run her hand over her hair. He stood their quietly, wide-eyed and surprised and she instantly regretted raising her voice.  
  


Sighing, she lowered her voice. "...And I should have said something about her to you before, but I couldn't think of a way how to tell it to you." She cracked slightly in her answer. "You deserved to know before and I thought to e you time might allow you to adjust. To...actually forgive me after what I did."  
  


No matter how she swallowed down the bile rising up her throat, she could feel herself wanting to throw up - disgusted again at herself for what she did. She expected him to start shouting back but all she got was a silent expression.  
  


Rowena continued, "I made the worse mistake, alright. And the worse feeling is that I did it to you. I hurt you, Akmenrah." She broke down in tears, scrunching her eyes shut as her fists clenched at her sides. "I hurt you directly and I don't understand why you still talk to me. Hell! You could have already stabbed me even though I can't exactly die! But why? Why do you still choose to be near me?" She begged, eagerness on the tip of her tongue.  
  


She tried to find some ounce of an answer in his facade, but she got no reaction.  
  


However, in a few seconds, his face contorted to a sombre expression. His eyes softened, lips pursed back as he took a step forward and gazed down at her.  
  


"Because, Rowen Bates," Ahkmenrah spoke, "...I've fallen in love with you."  
  


Her heart stopped.  
  


Her mind stopped. Everything around her grew blurry in her vision.  
  


And all she could focus her eyes on was the man that just said those several words.  
  


In a quiet breath, she said: "I beg your pardon?"  
  


"Rowen, I've fallen-"  
  


She stood rigidly, her head spinning as she cut him off. "I heard you the first time. What are you saying-"  
  


Gulping, he shook his head and a nervous laugh left his lips. "Oh, Ra. I am falling so fast down a pit in my heart that I feel like I'll hit the bottom hard." He calmed and added: "That is how much I'm in love with you, Rowen! And I mean it. I truly do."  
  


Her eyebrows creased - confused and annoyed for some reason. Why?  
  


"When." She whispered.  
  


"I think I accepted it when I took you to your friends with Larry." Ahkmenrah answered, "You were very drunk, and I took you upstairs and tucked you into bed."  
  


Rowena added, "And what happened?"  
  


He then explained with another heavy breath, his voice hoarse as he glanced away. "You asked me not to leave you, but I couldn't. I had to go back before sunrise." Ahkmenrah turned to her once more. "You also asked me to forgive you... And I did. I forgive you all the same, even if forgiveness may take a while to adjust to. But I don't deny it. I truly forgive you."  
  


"Stop. Ahk-"  
  


A look of hurt then formed in eyes as he asked, "Do you not have the same feelings?"  
  


"No!" She exclaimed and clamped her mouth. Shaking her head, she replied. "No. I mean...I do. Fucks sake..."  
  


Swearing sent her mumbling about to herself. Of course, she reciprocated the same feelings as he did. Perhaps more than he even suspected, though she was not going to go and reveal to him how she could not stop dreaming about him. So instead: she recollected her thoughts and calmed herself enough to explain.  
  


"Ahkmenrah. I already fell in love with you decades ago. I... I just couldn't come to my senses to accept it." She spoke, every word wavering more and more. "But I couldn't, alright. I couldn't put my self-indulgence before yours. You were being taken away; I just couldn't do it to you. I couldn't hurt you more than they did."  
  


Her eyes darted downwards, afraid to see the disappointment on him.  
  


"I fell. I fell and I still did when you got back three years ago." She confessed, wiping away the tears she spilt. When she then dared to look up, she continued. "And you are right. Words cannot describe how it hurts to fall no matter how much I try to ignore it."  
  


"Why? I thought you still loved him." He said with confusion edged on his tone.  
  


Sometimes she wondered how she deserved to know someone like him. A person who put the feelings of others first then their own. A person who would gladly put their happiness after their friends first. Equally, it gave her such pride to know someone so close as a friend and yet felt upset that Ahkmenrah thought of it as it.  
  


Rowena sadly smiled. "Oh Ahk, I loved him. I used to love Harry. Love is unexplanatory. It gives and it takes, and I did love him. And some part of me will forever be with him." She explained, "But years after his death: I realised that perhaps someone did help me to heal that was left of me."  
  


Her hand rested onto his, her emotions beginning to spill over.  
  


"It was the ballroom dancing that made me fall in love with you." She confessed.  
  


He furrowed his eyebrows. "How."  
  


"Because you put your trust in me to take the lead. And trust has always been a struggle to share. But you continued to let me guide you even if you were afraid that you would step on me." She chuckled, "I know it's an idiotic thing to say but I didn't see a king or a mummy or some exhibit. I saw a person who I grew to respect and love."  
  


Ahkmenrah's eyes sparkled under the artificial light, capturing her attention abruptly. They were the same eyes that stared at her many times before. When they first met three years ago, or when she found him carrying her at the Smithsonian. Or the times back in Cambridge.  
  


The ballroom.  
  


How his hands held her waist.  
  


His lips grew closer to hers and it was her only will power to take the chance.  
  


And so she did.  
  


His lips lightly pressed onto hers. So lightly that it made her want to move her lips closer.  
  


' _Oh, fuck it_.' She thought and took her chance to pull his lips into hers further. Her hands crept up to his face, feeling her fingers hot against his skin. She trailed them along his jaw, letting herself grow closer as their mouths moulded onto one another.  
  


Panic began to rise in her. Did he not like the kiss?  
  


But then in the correct timing - he kissed back.  
  


He tasted sweet on her lips. The scent of paper, incense and wine mixing together made her delirious as they continued. His lips were soft, tender and simply _perfect_. Perfect for her and perfect by how chaste and yet so passionate he was. It was a perfect blend that gave didn't give her enough and yet the right amount at the same time.  
  


Time dilated for her. She must have stayed so long on her tiptoes that by the time she pulled away and inhaled.  
  


His eyes fluttered open. "...It has been a long time since I wanted that." He breathed out.  
  


She asked, "How long?"  
  


"Almost fifty-seven years." He admitted, which surprised her even more.  
  


Had he wanted to kiss her the night before he left?  
  


"When you shared to me the most precious secret you had. I couldn't help but think that I met the person that would understand the burden that I held. Like you, the trust you held on for me showed how much I was lucky to find you." Ahkmenrah professed.  
  


His words left her to remember the exact moment he was talking about.  
  


"May I?" She asked him, fingers gracing over his cheek.  
  


Nodding: Ahkmenrah said the words she never wished would exit his mouth.  
  


"Of course."  
  


This time she wasn't sure how long they kissed. Seconds, minutes. Though it would seem it began to heat up the moment she tugged him by his collar, allowing him to push his lips further to hers and gently pecking her jaw. His hands held her tightly by his body, squeezing the side of her arms.  
  


Gasping by the unexpected touch, his tongue entered her mouth, and her head grew lighter. The room around her spun in her vision. A moan escaped her lips as heat surged up her stomach. Their lips were dancing around each other, desperation easily written across their action. She wanted to pull him closer by the shoulders, crawl up his body as he sat down on the of the desk to support himself.  
  


However, she had enough willpower to slow herself down and think. Rowena pulled back gently and saw worry form on him. She reassured him with another quick peck, but not before she leaned her head forwards, glad that he was sitting down so she didn't have to stand on her toes.  
  


With their foreheads against each other, Rowena breathlessly spoke: "You know, we can't exactly stay down here all night."  
  


"And why ever not?" He asked with the same breathless tone, smiling while he touched the tip of her nose with his.  
  


"Ahkmenrah. I have work to do." She answered sadly and pressed her lips onto his nose. However, his smile was too contagious - making her smile back under his gaze.  
  


"Of course." He nodded, a tint of disappointment in his face when she mentioned it. He leaned back, but still being mere inches away from her body.  
  


He adjusted his posture, standing back up in front of her whilst she took that time to help him rearrange his clothes back. Once he seemed appropriate (she would not want the others thinking they did more than just kissing), he too helped her smoothen her jumper and hair down.  
  


She asked, "So, what is this then? How do we suppose to go through this?"  
  


"I suppose we are not the most ordinary pair to use 21st Century courting styles." He piped. As he drew her closer to him, he snaked his arms on her waist - his grasp so light that it hovered over her waist rather than on it.  
  


Brushing her hands over to his shoulders, Rowena suggested to him: "How about we take it our own pace?" She explained, "We could keep it between us until we are comfortable to tell the others if you'd like."  
  


He agreed, "I'd like that very much." He paused, "I mean, we are still friends."  
  


Rowena smiled widely, glad that he still considered their friendship true to the bone. Even if they just confessed their love, all she wanted was to know that they were still friends. That they still trusted each other to an extent to feel comfortable around themselves. It was the first and foremost things she would have asked if all things didn't turn out the way it could have.  
  


But she didn't complain; this was a better outcome than any of her imaginary scenarios.  
  


"I forgive you; you know that." She added, making sure that her genuine statement crossed to him well.  
  


His face looked relieved when he heard her. Ahkmenrah blinked away his tears, bowing slightly. "Thank you, **_mer ek_**. That lifts the weight off my shoulders."  
  


"I still am sorry that our time is short, I really am." Her eyes watered as she spoke, wincing at the idea again of their outcome. In less than a year, she would leave. Leave everything that she has made all this time. She would have to leave him.  
  


"It does not matter how much we have left," Ahkmenrah muttered, wiping the tear away. He smiled sadly to her, encouraging her to gain some confidence. "As long as I am with you: then I am happy." He kissed her forehead and let her head rest on his chest.  
  


From now on, even if they were still unsure of themselves and each other: at least they were not alone again. The two stayed downstairs in the archives. No running from danger or shouting. She was at peace, for now, comforted by the beat of his heart next to her ear.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Rowena was floating on cloud nine.  
  


Well not literally - but metaphorically speaking. She felt as if a large weight, that has been embedded on her back for half a century, was plucked off by some unknown magical force and the wound barred down was healed by the memories of her kiss with Ahkmenrah. Or that was an overstatement.  
  


Nevertheless, nothing appeared to stop her from her optimistic mood for the past few weeks afterwards. November was coming round soon which meant it has been a few months since the Museum opened once a week during the evenings. The exhibits began to show their love of their new profound job and enjoyed preparing for their tours and talks before the evenings took place. Sometimes she would sit down with the exhibits on touching up with some of their facts, taking out the gory and unneeded parts (as their visitors included children).  
  


Most of the time Rowena would help with anything that was related during her lifetime. She enjoyed mentioning the little titbits like phrases and slang as well as giving them advice on how to take any aggravating visitors. The last time a group of teenagers thought to prank the miniatures by moving them in random spots of the museum, Jedediah and Octavius reigned havoc by firing rocks in the size of pebbles at them.  
  


Larry had to assure the teenagers' parents that it was a 'technical malfunction' and would not happen again.  
  


Richard adjusted well enough after the secret was revealed. In fact, he was prouder than ever towards the museum. Never was a time when he would whine at how old the wax statues were or why they needed more staff. He was forever pleased to know that his love of history came to life right in front of his eyes.  
  


If Rowena thought carefully, she found it sweet and amusing how his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree whenever he, Lewis and Clark spoke about their expeditions. He enjoyed conversing with Teddy and Sacagawea about their history and found some mutual ground with Dexter and Attila.  
  


The night when Ahkmenrah met Richard, it took several weeks for the two to have a conversation. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the only 'live' one out of all the exhibits and scaring him in a way. They were historians of course. They don't assume that what they've learnt tend to just bring themselves back from the dead every evening.  
  


Either way, Richard trusted Larry, Rebecca and her with the protection during the night - having found his evening filled with his long-time girlfriend. Safe to say, Rowena didn't want to interfere with his personal affairs as long as they were still comfortable working during the day.  
  


And that was what they were doing today, discussing some work as they walked around the museum. She and Richard were planning to bring in new exhibits into the mix for next year and wanted to see what certain halls needed additions. That took an hour and a bit before they arrived at the main entrance, notes jotted onto her clipboard.  
  


It was as if their timing was impeccable, as she noticed a familiar woman approach them from the doors.  
  


Rowena rose her brows and was about to comment. But Richard was the first to comment, "Dr Atkin's I didn't realise you'll be visiting."  
  


Salma Atkins smiled apologetically and shook his hand before shaking hers. "Dr McPhee, Dr Bates." She thanked them, "Sorry for the late notice. I had some trouble trying to get to New York, but I wanted to discuss with you some things with the Smithsonian and the British Museum."  
  


Richard glanced at Rowena and she simply nodded and told the curator to follow them down to Richard's office. Hopefully, it wasn't something she had in mind. A certain battle for that matter...  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

After their meeting, that was met by awkward conversations, Dr Atkins invited her to lunch across Central Park. They spent the afternoon speaking further on why Rowena returned the exhibits to the museum. And so, she explained her just like the rest of the board she spoke to.  
  


Salma Atkins seemed to believe it and quickly changed the subject on talking about various historical topics to fill their conversation. Rowena didn't mind at all, but the ease and comfortable tone the young curator had seemed _too_ comfortable that it agitated her. She was only glad she wasn't sitting down once more as she would probably squirm more - eager to move along.  
  


"This land that we walk on lay the very foundations of history ripped from society. There used to be a village called Seneca here." Dr Atkins - who preferred to be called Salma - explained as they walked down the path.  
  


Rowena hummed and nodded. "Yes. I read of it after some historians discovered some files of the plans of Central Park."  
  


She expected that Salma was going to mention what the plans were, but somehow it took a different turn.  
  


"Plans which destroyed lives, homes for the sake of others. This place. New York City. Built by powerful men, and women of course." An underlying dark tone was in her voice, earning Rowena a curious glance. Salma continued, "But somehow it took centuries to discover the truth. The truth of how people were shunned and hated by the colour of their skin. Pathetic really."  
  


Internally, she furrowed her eyebrows. Years spent gossiping and learning the tricks of metaphors made her an expert in seeing the truths behind petty words that could just be opinions for the ordinary person. So, hearing it from a young woman that was a professional in history and Egyptology speak in hidden messages made her mind tick.  
  


"It is. It is a shame it took so long for people to understand. And now, we're beginning to have a voice." Turning to her, Salma then beamed at her. " _We_ now have a voice, at this time. And I would like to help you if you let me - Rowena Clarke."  
  


She froze at her spot.  
  


Rowena then looked back at the woman and her eyes could have popped out.  
  


"That is not my name." Those were the only words she could say.  
  


"It _was_. Rowena Elizabeth Clarke." Salma answered, her eyes boring straight at her. "You were named by the Duke of Cornwall who died in 1810."  
  


Her heart grew colder.  
  


Rowena asked, a warning tone creeping underneath the shock. "How do you know that name."  
  


Salma smiled and answered her. "Because Rowena: I am just like you."  
  


Her hand took something out from her collar. Once Salma did: her throat hitched.  
  


Dangling on a silver chain was a golden coin. The Wadjet symbol carved on the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They.finally.kissed. I repeat: Ahk and Rowena have kissed and it has to be the most difficult scene to write and describe. After 29 chapters and possibly almost 6 decades for those people: they've finally admitted that they like each other. But sadly, Rowena is probably got to leave eventually :(
> 
> And then I decided to scare you guys with that lovely cliffhanger. Salma Atkins. How? 
> 
> Well, you will find out in the next chapter, I assure you. ;)
> 
> [Edited 11/2020]: Just tidying some things in part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	32. Civil Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the cliffhanger, Salma Atkin reveals how she became a Wadjet key holder and a Guardian.
> 
> As well as this, Rowena's curiosity digs deeper her old research, using her last resort by visiting an old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and hits. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

** Rowena XXVII  
  
**

**_2009 - New York City  
  
_ **

_“Because Rowena: I am just like you.”  
  
_

_Her hand took something out from her collar. Once Salma did: her throat hitched.  
  
_

_Dangling on a silver chain was a golden coin. The Wadjet symbol carved on its face.  
  
_

Speechless was an understatement as Rowena's jaw dropped. It was the exact same coin, with the Eye of Horus engraved on both sides and the familiar glow that she could sense around it. It seemed to be calling to her, tugging her own Wadjet key to the other.  
  


Twirling the Wadjet key in her fingertips, Salma explained: "I was given the golden coin long ago. Centuries ago."  
  


Rowena’s eyes flashed at the hint of her age.  
  


Salma spoke, "Traded by some merchants along the Silk Road, and amongst all their gold and silver they showed me: I was drawn in by the little coin under all the wealth they could give me."  
  


‘ _Just like me_.’ She thought to herself.  
  


She looked over to Rowena as she said, "Many years later, I realised something I couldn't do. Age. I didn't grow old like my family. They thought I was a witch, almost killed me for it. And you must know how that turned out..."  
  


The corners of Salma's lips lifted, and an unappealing feeling churned in Rowena. This was not what she expected.  
  


"It was how I learnt about my immortality. You can never forget the first time you lost your life. You remember it again and again and again; it becomes your nightmare. Your fear. They wanted to burn me, like all witches in that era. It was a good way to escape for one good reason." A disdain expression formed in Salma’s face. "Many called me the girl who couldn't die, and it made me want to search. Find the answers to my condition. I... gave up after a hundred years. I was tired. Joined many monasteries and religions to find the answer. Until the gods finally answered me."  
  


"What did they say?" Rowena asked mutely.  
  


Slipping the Wadjet key back into her shirt, she shifted her stance, standing next to the fountain. "They said my work wasn't done. That I needed to continue finding the thing I wasn't sure of." Salma chortled, rolling her eyes.  
  


Rowena blankly replied, "Sounds like what a god would say."  
  


Then she looked at her, with almost an amusing expression. Her eyes lit up, but not in happiness. Salma looked at her as if she were looking at a child that was asking an innocent and naive question - someone who did not know what they said. That had made Rowena step back her reluctance to ask even further.  
  


Even if there was some underlying amusement in her response, she could tell Salma was thinking of something else.  
  


Then, Salma laughed, "The gods aren't direct to humans. But I could understand what they were trying to say. They wanted me to find a reason to continue - to live." She smiled, "I didn't need to find the truth because the truth was there all along. I needed to keep protecting the living world. We need to protect it. Against people and beings like Kahmunrah-"  
  


Rowena corrected her, "Kahmunrah was mistaken. It was Khafre."  
  


Interrupting Salma with her snapping sent the woman creasing her eyebrows in confusion.  
  


"Khafre? He built the pyramids and the Sphynx. Ruled for decades." She hummed and tapped her chin. "Perhaps the _Guardian_ has mixed your perception."  
  


She gently tapped her fingers on the side of the hip and stayed silent. The insult thrown at her had taken her off guard, wanting to snipe back in retaliation. "They also slaughtered a family." Rowena plainly out, hiding her flexing hands underneath her sleeves.  
  


"Rowena. I'm not here to quarrel about some long-lived feud. I'm here because I know that the tablet needs protection." Salma answered, her smile never leaving her lips. It was starting to piss her off how she was speaking to her.  
  


It would so seem that Salma Atkins was much older than her and thought of her as a child in her eyes. So what? She has had her fair share of knowledge. Age was just a number to them, and she should not be put off by the intimidation Salma posed.  
  


However, inside in the back of her head: there was fear towards the words Salma spoke. The air around the curator and immortal uneased her even more, especially when she was mentioning the Tablet and Ahkmenrah.  
  


"And what of the Tablet?" She asked her, a hint of suspicion rising on her tone.  
  


"Antonio Paladino contacted me, asking me to aid you with some complications." She mentioned and a sympathetic look graced her. "You don't need to run away from your past, Rowena. I can help you. What you sought all this time."  
  


She replied stiffly with a question. "And what do you believe I've been searching for?"  
  


"A choice." Salma answered, "You can have a choice for once that isn't affiliated by people wanting what we have. I can help you protect them. Not directly but aiding if there are complications. Such as the secret of the Tablet."  
  


Her head was screaming answers. Majority of them was telling her that she was diving into the unknown headfirst, not knowing if she would live or drown. That what Salma was doing was to catch her at her most vulnerable. Alone without her friends, having to leave the museum under the hands of Larry, Rebecca and Richard despite Ahkmenrah being there anyways.  
  


However, she did not know the power this woman had with her. In front of her, she saw a kind and just woman. Who spent centuries living through history whether it was hell or heaven for her. Many years meant many lives, lives that could have so much more. Did she have a family? Where are they now? Did she lose a lot?  
  


On the other part of Rowena, she saw the pain and the truth that were consequences of their conditions. Loneliness and heartbreak were the main things when it came to immortality and Salma's amber eyes felt like she was looking into a window of time.  
  


In fact, Rowena almost felt sorry for her. That she endured for so long. She wanted to reach out to her and comfort her.  
  


But she did not. Why? It may be how familiar she appeared to her.  
  


' _Why do I feel like I remember you..._ ' Rowena wondered.  
  


Then she remembered what Salma was offering. Assistance to protect the Tablet. And she already had that answer covered.  
  


With a tight exhale, Rowena answered her: "You are rather kind, Salma. But I've only met you for a short time. They won't trust you. I... don't trust you, yet." Her hand tucked into her pocket, fiddling with the hem inside. "I'm sorry if that came out harsher than supposedly but it takes time to give our trust. And there are more than enough people who know of its true capacity to protect it, I assure you.”  
  


She made sure not to mention as much as any names. Though she doubted it would help. Salma Atkins – despite now a whole different person to the one she met just hours before – would know the names of those responsible inside the museum.  
  


"I see," Was all Salma responded with, the cheeriness of her tone dialling down.  
  


Rowena should not feel guilty. She knew the outcomes of trusting those too easily. And with how calmly she had retracted the ideas of Kahmunrah and Khafre’s alliance with the Tablet – she now had her suspicions.  
  


Salma Atkins knew more than she let by.  
  


She reassured her, "Look. It is lovely, happy even, to meet someone that has the same burden that I've carried for years. But we both know that we don't know each other. We don't know our stories enough to put each other's aid into each other's problems." Rowena sincerely smiled back, a little too tightly. "Salma, I'm glad to have met you. I really am. But I think I will consider it... But just not right now."  
  


She was glad. Centuries of being alone and to finally meet someone like her was a thrill, a miracle. When she met Ahkmenrah for the first time, she was at the joyous moments of her time. But she knew it was for the best that they would take it slowly. To get to know the woman in front of her rather than a face from the news.  
  


Eventually, their trust might build up.  
  


Or perhaps the other way. ‘ _I should run a background check on her first,_ ’ She considered.  
  


"Of course. Forgive me for being too forward." Salma understood with a gesture. "I was just rather excited when I felt the energy surge in Washington that I finally found someone who was like me."  
  


Licking her lips, Rowena spoke: "All I ask is for you to be patient. If something does happen I'll be there. We will help each other."  
  


"I know you will." She grinned, though the light did not seem to reflect her eyes. "Thank you, Rowena, very much."  
  


Her phone rang at the exact moment, letting Rowena patiently wait in front before Salma nodded. Her eyes darted once or twice back to her before she placed it down. When the other immortal informed her that she was needed back at D.C Rowena politely nodded and guided her back to the office.  
  


The whole journey back was tense. And it didn't help that the voice in her head told her one thing.  
  


' ** _Be careful guardian..._** '  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

January came round the corner, to which Rowena did not expect. It had been exactly four years since the night the museum came to life in her and Larry's eyes - insinuating a new change in the museum. Four years since the museum brought a new night guard and let go of the old.  
  


Why she was heading down to Queens this morning was for a similar matter.  
  


With hair braided down into locks and warming her ears, she wore her thickest scarf and coat alongside her boots and stepped out of her car. The car park was small, but there wasn't a lot of cars, to begin with.  
  


Once she locked her car and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, Rowena walked up to the front entrance of the building and pressed the doorbell. It must have been a coincidence that another visitor opened the door to leave, giving her a smile and held the door for her. Thanking the older woman, she was met by a waft of warm air. She should have thought it through, considering that she was entering a retirement home for elderly people.  
  


The moment she entered the small reception, a sense of awkwardness erupted in her. Almost all these people living here are over a century younger than her. A lovely elderly woman was walking past her towards the reception desk and bidding her good morning before being ushered by her nurse. Rowena couldn't help but smile sincerely back and bowed to the woman out of respect.  
  


She ignored the painful throb in her chest once the elderly woman was helped away, rather being shuffled, to the next room rather than walking.  
  


Once she got to the reception desk, Rowena was greeted by one of the staff before letting them know she was here for a visit. The woman behind the desk thanked her and got up, ready to guide her through the building.  
  


The retirement home was large, with tall hallways and bland and bright white walls that reminded her too much of the terrace houses in London. But the place was nicely decorated by plants and vases. Many of the residents ignored her, doing their daily activities whereas one or two smiled and greeted her. An elderly woman even complimented her hair which got her blushing right before she was about to meet the person she was looking for.  
  


Once the receptionist stopped at the double doors, she thanked her quietly and entered.  
  


It was a conservatory, large and spacious with many plants surrounding the edges. Outside was an open lawn, empty due to the cold and snow. In the middle stood a man, his back turned from her - himself next to a chair and a small table.  
  


As the door shut behind her, Rowena approached the man with her head held high.  
  


And at the sound of her boots against the stone, his head turned.  
  


Icy blue eyes stared back at her.  
  


He spoke aloud, "One meeting is already a surprise. But two, I must say is rather questionable."  
  


With a raised brow, Rowena calmly answered. "Good to see you too, C.J."  
  


He gestured for her to the sit and she kept her lips shut. With a gulp, she sat on the armchair opposite him and placed her bag down at the side whilst he did the same.  
  


On the table was a tea set, where Cecil eyed her with a silent look towards the teacup and she obliged. Nodding back, he began preparing her tea at his own pace - hearing the water splash into the cup and the clinking of metal spoons.  
  


As he placed a sugar cube in his, Cecil licked his lips. "Now, I haven't heard that name in while." He glanced straight at her. "Cecil please, Emilia."  
  


Even the mention of the name sent an alarming sense in her head and she brushed it away before he could notice. "Rowen then." She agreed, "If we are to be civil."  
  


Once he was done with her cup, he held it up in front of her and she took it with a polite thank you. "Of course. Though the last time we met we were...hardly civil." He gave her a small smile.  
  


"You were trying to steal a 24-karat gold tablet along with several other rare historical artefacts. _You_ tried to choke me to death." Rowena plainly said. "You must understand I was angry during the situation."  
  


Cecil did not flinch or bat an eye, simply thinning his lips before swirling the spoon around his cup.  
  


Despite the conservatory supposed to be warm in the winter months, it was still rather chilly. She could see the steam rising from her tea as she subtly placed the tea under her nose to take its scent. Despite all the courtesy and the kindness, the man had given her now: she was not putting down her barriers that easily. Poison or any drug could have been mixed in.  
  


Therefore, Rowena looked straight back at Cecil quietly, waiting for him to take a sip. Luckily, he was not noticing her eyes darting down at his own cup in his hand. A smirk then rose on his lips. With an antagonising pace, Cecil drank from his teacup and hummed.  
  


He hadn’t spat his out or looked affected by it.  
  


It was her turn to drink: and Rowena did.  
  


After a small sip of the rather excellent tea (she couldn’t disagree a good brew), she asked: "How are you? How has retirement suited you?"  
  


He sighed once he placed his cup down. "Wonderful. Your friend Larry Daley had a good suggestion. Rather nice, fitting. Though it's a bit of a predicament that this was where his grandfather died."  
  


Rowena bit back a sharp sigh, tightening her grip of the teacup. Did Cecil remember Robert, surely? But the thought of even mentioning her dead best friend was the lowest blow the man could give her.  
  


He knew it would hurt her. The thought that Robert had spent the last years of his life here - alone and without his wife. Josephine had died years before his time, and Rowena had never made it to them before their deaths. Not even a message from his children or news that he was dying. She had mourned for years, and she never thought it would come to this.  
  


Cecil wanted to play a game. A game in which he wanted to strike a nerve in her heart, tug them until she would snap at him. It wasn’t difficult to deduce; she was even impressed he would even dare to try.  
  


However, she would not let him lull her into his game. So, she calmly placed her cup down and gave him a sweet innocent smile back.  
  


She could see him retract back.  
  


He changed the subject to her relief. Cecil began, "Now tell me. You must have questions since our last time meeting."  
  


In a few seconds, Rowena's facade changed. She questioned him. "Have you contacted with them since our last meeting?" She said with a deadly stare, "And don't lie, I've learnt quite well during my time."  
  


"No, they have not," Cecil revealed with a hefty breath. "They've regarded me as...redundant due to my old age. People like me are never important. Just a watcher and a messenger. Nothing else."  
  


Rowena carefully chose her words. "What do others do in your...group?"  
  


Cecil raised his golden eyebrow and thinned his lips. "Many things and too much in my opinion." He explained, "There were four tiers I believe. One of the tiers were messengers and watchers, who kept notes and made sure everything was stable and nothing changed. Then there were the spies: those who had higher careers to move the watchers - messengers would go to them if anything changed."  
  


Rowena digested the information, surprised that he would simply explain to her that could potentially damage his safety.  
  


When the thought rose out, she blandly commented. "So, the other two do the shit whilst you pick it all up in scraps." Rowena scoffed, "Lovely pyramid scheme."  
  


He didn't react but continued, "The other two tiers were benefactors. Those who led companies, groups, investors, businessmen, politicians...military. The top tier is the people who lead the heads of these top investors and businessmen. They keep them in check...and remove those who were not truly loyal."  
  


"What did they get if you recruited someone? Money, a house?" She pried.  
  


He rambled, "Money, recommendations. All sorts."  
  


' _Sounds like every cult I've heard_ ,' She thought. "But if you were given a position, especially in a museum for decades...surely you must have a gotten a better job and just hire another person to do it?" Rowena furrowed her eyebrows. "You wanted fame; you wanted to be rich...if I say no better - you wanted to prove your father wrong."  
  


Cecil tensed after her words echoed into his ears. He narrowed his eyes at her before shutting his eyes to take a breath.  
  


She had struck a sensitive topic.  
  


"You are right. I wanted to prove my father wrong." He scoffed, rubbing his forehead. "But he didn't listen. And even that it doesn't comprehend what I was given to do."  
  


Another confusing reply left her asking again, "Why you?"  
  


"Because no one in the Order could hold the Tablet. Not even the ones that we tricked into taking." Cecil explained, his hands rubbing together. "We bear a mark after initiation. But my initiation didn't work."  
  


Rowena said aloud. "What."  
  


"Have you asked others to take the Tablet before?" Asking, he leaned forward and inspected her reaction.  
  


Her only mind went to the moment during and after the Battle at the Smithsonian.  
  


The markings Napoleon had on his hands after carrying the Tablet. As well as that, Khafre's entire palms bore the patterns of hieroglyphics.  
  


Did the Tablet do that to them?  
  


Perhaps the Tablet was sentient and could sense the holder's intentions. Is that what Cecil meant? But why would Cecil be able to hold it? The stressed of the word 'initiation' sent a chill down her spine, wondering if the process had to do with some painful procedure. Even then, Rowena did not want to form any ideas of what the cult did to their followers.  
  


"Only me, Larry, Ahkmenrah and Dexter." She answered, "But I found out Dexter got some burns on his hands a few days after...you don't need to know."  
  


Indeed, when Dexter took the tablet: the capuchin complained of having marks on his small palms. Larry had to embalm them for the next two weeks for it to heal.  
  


Cecil hummed thoughtfully. "Your pendant burnt me, perhaps due to my intentions. But the Tablet does not burn me _as much_ , which confuses me as others have died touching the Tablet. Many have died because of it."  
  


He explained that the previous courier had tried to steal the Tablet without informing the Order of their intentions, their hands had turned to ash and had to get their surgically removed.  
  


Rowena mentally shivered at the thought, rubbing her palms together.  
  


"Must be some protective spell or something." She suspected.  
  


He raised a brow, "You still don't believe magic is the cause of this?" Cecil pointed out. "For an immortal you are stubborn."  
  


She rushed out, "Oh I do believe in magic, but to realise that your old posse is after the Tablet is my concern." Pausing, she hesitated to ask him the dire question. "Can I see that burn?"  
  


Rowena had expected hesitancy but was surprised by Cecil nod.  
  


He sat up and shifted to the edge of his chair. Holding his hand out, she noticed the white linen covering his entire palm. With care and precision, he unbound it - letting her lean forwards to see the result.  
  


Her throat grew dry as she saw what was there.  
  


The Eye of Horus was imprinted on the palm of his hand, lined by golden marks which trailed over his veins. It seemed to glow and push itself into the skin that if she dared to touch it - it would burn her as well.  
  


"Still stings in this day. Impressive work." Cecil said, a fake tone of praise lingering.  
  


She replied, “You’re welcome.”  
  


In her shock, he had laughed. He then wrapped the bandage back around his hand and folded his hands on his lap.  
  


She wasn’t sure to be amused by him catching her humour or annoyed by his teasing. However, there was a twinge of guilt slithering in her heart.  
  


Rowena leaned back into her chair and questioned: "Do you believe them? Their cause? The people want to take the Tablet?"  
  


He pursed his lips and thought deeply. A pondering look contorted on Cecil as he gazed out into the snowy landscape outside. Rowena could tell that four years in a care home and prison changed him. He was not the same man that she met at the museum, neither the man that thought to take her away to his leaders.  
  


Those four years aged him both in appearance and personality. Though despite his spitefulness and snappy japes, Cecil Fredricks lost all there was that Rowena saw in him as a boy back in Egypt.  
  


And yet she saw more of C.J in him now more than ever.  
  


There she was, imagining him as that twelve-year-old boy in the desert: eyes with questions and wonder that could fill a whole library.  
  


He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Actually...I don't even know anymore." Tiredness in his voice crept in. "It's been forty or so years. All I know is that you seek power to keep us behind. To keep humanity behind."  
  


"Whatever your order is trying to tell you: they don't know people well," Rowena said coldly. "And people began telling me that they know me all of a sudden."  
  


A peal of laughter escaped her mouth, neither light nor happy. The thought of the encounter of Salma still haunted her. How could she trust someone so quickly after centuries alone? And then for a woman to tell her that she was just like her: a guardian with a magical golden coin who is immortal.  
  


Rowena had no idea at all and never felt anything from her. Maybe she was something deeper and darker, wanting her to know the location of the Tablet.  
  


However: she then realised who she sounded like.  
  


She was being hostile. Letting her fear was getting into Rowena's nerves and she shouldn't follow towards the notions of her first encounter. But she needed to know more evidence, to prove to herself who the woman truly was considering the Tablet.  
  


Rowena closed her eyes and gave out a shuddered breath. “I…” She trailed off and looked back to him. “I’m not who you believe to who I am. I don’t seek anything but to protect what’s left.”  
  


Should she ask?  
  


He didn’t react to her reassuring statement, only eyeing her with curiosity of what she would say next.  
  


And so, she did. “Did you know, I met someone speaking of something similar to this.”  
  


Cecil creased his eyes and warily spoke, "Why are you telling me this?"  
  


"Because I don't trust them to stay here. With the tablet." She rubbed her fingers onto her temple. "It's difficult to explain. I met someone, and I think they're the same as me."  
  


"Then why are you here?" He asked, now a worried look on his face.  
  


"I want to know if you knew of them." She answered, trying her best to hide the distress in her voice. "If you know that there's another holder. Another guardian."  
  


However, to her dismay, her questions were answered by his shaking head. "I know nothing. And no one knows because the guardians are invisible to us all." He informed.  
  


Guardians? Wait. Heka Guardians. The ones Khafre mentioned. ' _So, he was telling the truth, and that means this Order knows she is one of them. Is Ahkmenrah one of them and Larry? But how?'  
  
_

She paused and gaped. "What?" Rowena asked, "Then how could you possibly have known?"  
  


Cecil shrugged his shoulders and explained, "We taught about them. Any person who finds the Wadjet key is to bring it, if possible, and return it to headquarters in Egypt. By the sounds of it you've encountered us." He quirked his lips upwards. "Coincidence. Sometimes you don't need magic and planning for things to happen. Fate is always a side player in the game. Your meeting with Larry...Even your encounter with Ahkmenrah must have been an accident."  
  


Somehow, the mention of his name struck a question she had always demanded an answer from them.  
  


She questioned back rather harshly, "What made you believe that mummy was evil? Why didn't you open it to see if it was real?" Her fingers flexed around each other in fists, trying to take herself back to peace.  
  


"Now this isn't what you planned. You want your mummy friend to know why I never let him out." Cecil sneered, "Do you want to know why? It's because I listened to you, I listened to my heart and thought that mummy was evil. As much as I wanted to stop the screams, I wanted a world that had lesser evil."  
  


Her jaw tensed as the words entered her mind. As much as Rowena wanted to punch the man in front of her for doing the most horrible atrocity - she knew he was right. He was only trying to keep everyone safe to some extent.  
  


Magic, they both knew was a fickle thing. It was why Larry could not even trust her for the first weeks after her reveal and trust some of the exhibits for months. They were people of history, with dark backgrounds and pasts that have been shrouded by their only known heroic deeds.  
  


People like Attila and Octavius, conquerors of their time. Even Jedediah and the wild west was a harsh life. Even Ahkmenrah: the man that was always so peaceful and patient - also had a dark past and façade that no one knew of.  
  


Rowena said with sureness, "He was young. He was in his early twenties for god's sake."  
  


"And you are both older than me and yet hide your own fears." He grimaced. "I did what I could as a nightguard."  
  


She then saw the pain that rested on his expression. The regrets and the sorrow that began to seep out. "C.J."  
  


"Even if I was nightguard, I still remembered how your eyes shone like the sun in many people's eyes. The woman who wrote a book about her work in Egypt, the woman who taught me an ancient language. To never give up." He spoke with each word in truth. "You may think I did something wrong, but I followed what my gut told me because you told me to follow my gut. And maybe I did it wrong...maybe I should have...but I did what I did."  
  


Rowena opened her mouth to retort but nothing came out. Her heart banged against her chest and it grew heavy. This was not how she wanted this meeting, quite the opposite. She wanted to make sure he was alright as well as try and gain some clues.  
  


But she could not do it. Her pride and stubbornness were too much to say the words she wanted to say. So instead she rose to her seat and picked up her bag.  
  


With a nod, she said, "Thank you for your time, Cecil."  
  


He only grunted a response, nodding curtly back before sipping the rest of his drink. Hers was left unattended, cold and still full. She slipped out and began heading towards the door quietly.  
  


"...There are six main heads."  
  


Rowena stopped in her tracks and turned slowly.  
  


Cecil was not staring back at her, a serious expression on him. "I met the Jackal; he ran this continent until he was forced to move. The other four are scattered but I don't know what has happened in twenty years. They keep an eye on you." He warned. "Beware of the Scarab, Rowen. They say they're the most dangerous of them all."  
  


‘ _The Scarab. The Jackal…_ ’  
  


With a skipped beat in her heart, Rowena nodded stiffly back.  
  


And then, she finally said it.  
  


“Cecil?”  
  


He gazed at her with a solemn look.  
  


"I forgive you." Rowena finally said, as if another weight was removed from her. “I’ve done bad things for reasons I believed that was for the better. And I am sorry that it had come to this.”  
  


“We cannot go back,” He answered with. “I know what I’ve done.”  
  


She fought for herself to ignore the throb in her chest. “I know.” Rowena’s eyes softened. “Thank you and stay safe.”  
  


Cecil's eyes warmed a bit by her words as she left the conservatory and headed back to the entrance.  
  


When the doors closed behind her, Rowena had not seen the small genuine smile that rested on his lips - and a tear rolling down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, we get our other and very unexpected guardian to be Salma Atkins herself. But Rowena here is not having it at all, both her conversation with Salma and Cecil. Both of them giving her some proper mix messages. As for what Cecil spoke. Those are very key things to remember for the next two parts. Why do you suppose he told her?
> 
> Next chapter will be the final instalment of Part 2. :( Which means someone's going to be leaving New York.
> 
> [Edited 11/2020]: Just tidying part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4. :)


	33. Leaving New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the last night for Rowena at the American Museum of Natural History, and the exhibits give her something in return after taking care of them for the past four years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a lot of feels.

** Rowena XXVIII  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

The last four months flew too fast for Rowena.  
  


At one moment, she was going home in the mornings after an evening out at the museum. The next: she was already packing her belongings at her brownstone home.  
  


It wasn't much, to begin with. Most of the furniture that decorated and filled her New York home wouldn't need to move with her back to London since she already had a house there. A terrace house in South Kensington to which another friend of hers kept safe. There was too much to even consider bringing, let alone trying to find someone to sell it within five months. Even with all the demands of housing in New York nowadays, the agencies and house retailers would take a year to bid it for sale.  
  


Instead, Rowena gave the keys of her home to her housekeeper: Mavis.   
  


The first time she held the keys out to the elderly woman, she refused immensely: afraid to even touch them. Mavis told her that she was being too kind and that she only chose to continue living there with her as Rowena reminded her of her daughter. That said daughter recently moved halfway across the country and began their new life with her own family in California.  
  


Touched by Mavis' reasons, she could only accept the decline the housekeeper had - only allowing her the house for now until she could find another tenant. Their even decision was approved, giving Rowena one less job to do before her departure.  
  


Next was her job both in the museum and the University of New York.  
  


Her position as a professor and lecturer changed, offered by another Egyptologist whom she suggested. She could only be hopeful that they raise the stakes of her own work. Because despite teaching for decades, Rowena knew teaching in the modern world has changed for the better. The person she chose was younger and fresh, with a brilliant mind and a passion for the course and subject.  
  


Her students have now gone along with their lives to whatever career or path they took. Garret Trench had taken a job as a graduate Egyptologist and Historian for an antiquities agency and always liked to discuss his project with her and Leslie over dinner. Kai Winterson on the other hand was helping Larry Daley out at the museum.  
  


That had been a very conflicted decision made by Ahkmenrah, Larry, Richard and herself which comprised a whole evening in her office and plenty of grim looks and uncertain gazes at each candidate they flipped through.  
  


After the first months of the Night Programme, the museum received high reviews regarding the uniqueness and ingenuity of the work Larry gave. His public profile as the former CEO of Daley Devices sparked an interest and link to how he used animatronics to make the animals 'come to life'. How Rexy was just a hologram that was a little too real for anyone's liking. They knew someone would eventually get suspicious of them, so the devised a way to form some papers and blueprints on how Larry's team made them.  
  


The only other way they could ease the suspicion was to hire an external staff member that didn't know the truth at all. So, it led to them up to go through dozens of resumes of graduates or anyone who had a background in history or management. Who fitted both categories seemed to be Leslie's dear friend.  
  


Kai began working soon in the early months of the year, getting to know the exhibits by their 'human' names and character names. He was very relaxed and easy with them to Larry's surprise and had no ounce of worry to begin chatting to them about the latest soaps on the TV.  
  


Or the fact that one out of three of the Greek Muses seemed to take a clear fancy to him.  
  


As Larry's new partner joining the bandwagon of their nightlife, so left another. Rebecca's book about Sacagawea's life boomed after it was published two years prior and the company offered her a book tour for the whole year. Rowena was ecstatic for her friend, knowing well it had been years since Rebecca had wanted to have a break and spend the time celebrating the work she had done alongside Sacagawea.  
  


Larry didn't object on it, only reciprocating the happiness his girlfriend had after the news was revealed. Their love gave Rowena the true beauty and understanding she needed when her thoughts trailed off to Ahkmenrah. Like them: they would be away for a long time, only seeing each other occasionally behind a computer screen or through messages. It was only harder for her that Ahkmenrah was still catching up on 21st Century technology.  
  


It didn't matter for her anyway: their slow - and secret - relationship only began to strengthen as their time together grew longer.   
  


Nights at the museum turned to nights spending out around New York. Going out to restaurants or taking walks out in Central or Battery Park was all they did. From time to time, an event would happen, and Rowena would take Ahkmenrah to experience the noise and bustle of modern America.  
  


Sometimes they were quiet nights, which they would spend sitting inside in her office reading or cuddling on a bench in the Hayden Planetarium. Hours and hours, they would browse through various star charts and discuss astronomy and astrophysics to one another.  
  


And then sometimes it was moments of sadness. Reminiscing the growing truth that they did not have much time left together. Night after night, the ache began to grow and they both knew the time of her leaving was coming.  
  


It was why the penultimate night before the day she was leaving, Ahkmenrah and her snuck out one last time. And this time, they spent it out in Battery Park: walking down by the sea as they watched the lights of New York in the background. It was a mixture of silence and laughter, wanting to keep the sadness at bay.  
  


Then the last evening came. Just as sunset occurred: Rowena decided to use the time after work to wander the halls of the museum alone.  
  


Four years that she spent here and never would she imagined growing so attached to a place.  
  


Decades and centuries, she had only grown attachment to a location in certain places. One had been her family home in Plymouth and the other was Cambridge and the school of History and Archaeology. Even her homes in London, Luxor and Cairo have never met the same sentimental standards as the very two places that gave Rowena the most meaning.  
  


She memorised the places in the museum that were embedded in her head. Like the time she fell asleep in the certain bench just outside the Neolithic artefacts gallery, or the time when she and Larry brought a Dance Dance Revolution game and placed it in one of the open halls. The Hayden Planetarium was where they held their films nights, and the Aquatic Kingdom was where Nick and Ahkmenrah got soaked one time and she scolded both of them - knowing how fragile Ahkmenrah's clothes were.   
  


There was the conservation department, where she and Rebecca spent some of their time working or having their own girls’ night alongside the Muses and Sacagawea. The museum archives were where Rowena and Ahkmenrah spent the past few months sifting through Samuel Fredricks' journals and extracts from their expedition, or any indication of the secret order Cecil mentioned about. Though their efforts were blown away by each other’s distractions, stealing kisses in the nook of aisles, cuddling in her office or talking about their life in the past if they were in the right mood.  
  


All these memories were running her mind and she could not help but have a sad smile on her lips. With the familiar click of her heeled shoes, she turned around the corner to spot a mounted Teddy.  
  


The president immediately spotted her from the distance and grinned. He dismounted from Texas and uttered to him some words before the horse trotted away.  
  


As she walked over to the president, Rowena greeted him. "Good evening Teddy."  
  


"Good evening Rowena," Teddy replied and took a breath. "Wow, I must say. It is a sad night indeed. A year ago, Lawrence left to make a world of himself. Now it time for you to return to yours."  
  


Rowena let a little huff, smiling away before speaking: "Yes...back to reality, I guess." She paused. "Normality, in a way."  
  


"Reality, yes. Normality? I beg to differ. Considering you are a walking phenomenon yourself!"  
  


Her lips twitched as she felt her cheeks warm.  
  


"Never think of such things as normal. Normal is relative, and indeed: you have grown to be open with yourself." Teddy stated, his voice echoing around the halls as they walked. "Starting by telling us of who you were all those years ago when you began in this museum with Lawrence. And time passed, and I saw a beautiful woman grow to trust and love a family."  
  


"I am going to miss this," Rowena admitted freely. "Miss the nightlife. Miss Jed and Octavius, Attila, Rexy, Dexter. You and Sacagawea...and Ahkmenrah. I'm not sure if I have changed, but I know for a fact that you all have to some extent."  
  


It was his turn to beam back, tilting his head down to her. All the moments she shared with Teddy had always given her a warm feeling in her chest. He was the closest thing she had equivalent to an uncle, someone that would ask how she was doing after the past few days and make sure she was alright. He would discuss some problems and complaints to her over the evenings which helped her, and Larry change some parts of the museum life.  
  


But overall, what Rowena saw in him was someone that wanted unity and peace in their life. His cheerfulness and optimism what gave Larry the boost he needed to keep the job in the first place, so she could only thank the president for that. She also saw how close Larry and Teddy were, a similar relationship between a father and son in her eyes.  
  


She would never be able to see these sorts of moments for a while.  
  


They continued heading down the corridor, passing the elderly ladies with their alpacas taking their usual walk. Columbus was heading towards them, his eyebrows lighting up when he spotted them coming his way. The Italian explorer wanted to thank Rowena for all the help in teaching him English. She smiled happily at the bronze man, thanking him for giving her a card that was written in English beautifully in calligraphy ink.  
  


Once Columbus went off his way down to the other parts of the museum, another exhibit entered in. The familiar _Ferrari_ zoomed at the crossroads of the corridors, stopping with an ear-raping squeak in front of them.  
  


As the window rolled down, she found Jedediah at the driver's seat - thought without Octavius at his side. She wondered where the Roman general was, considering how Octavius rarely left Jedediah for the past year.  
  


Or perhaps she was just used to them bickering like an old married couple.  
  


Either way, it was another thing she will miss. The number of times those two ran over her feet as well as others. Mainly Ahkmenrah and Larry were the victims (one wore sandals whilst the other was the Nightguard of the museum) and she and Rebecca dodged it with a clear threat of heeled shoes.  
  


On second thought: Rowena was _not_ going to miss that part.  
  


With an arm supporting the door frame, Jedediah said: "Evening Gigantress, President."  
  


"Ah Jedediah, impeccable timing." From the edge of her vision, Teddy strode forwards and nodded back at the miniature cowboy. The two mimicked some nudges of their chins before Jedediah turned to her.  
  


"We've got you something, Rowen," Jedediah spoke.  
  


Turning, over to Teddy: he wore a smile on his lips, his eyes mischievous before glancing down to the direction toward the main hall. She made a confused look, before being told to follow them down. Jedediah sped ahead of them and waited for them at the entrance.  
  


As Rowena and Teddy entered the room, she noticed a group of people hovering about at the front desk. She then noticed the changes around the room. Decorations were held up, with streamers and balloons all a ray of colours. There were a stereo and a DJ mixer table at the middle of the stairs and many of the exhibits already enjoying the atmosphere.  
  


There was no mention of a party tonight, considering it was the weekdays.  
  


Turning to the president's side, she asked: "What's all this?"  
  


Teddy only winked at her before ambling over to where Sacagawea was, who had been conversing with Dexter beside Rebecca. To her vision, she saw Rexy enjoying the giant chewable toy at the front of the hall whilst Nick was keeping an eye on him. Jedediah had raced away towards where the rest of the miniatures were, hopefully, to find Octavius.  
  


Slowly, she waded through the crowd of people dancing - apologising every bump she had until she found Larry standing by the reception desk with a wide grin. His arms were folded behind him and she curiously gave a glance at him.  
  


Larry spoke, "Evening," He smiled. "Last night at the museum, as you know."  
  


Walking up from the side, Rebecca stood over next to the night guard, placing a hand over his shoulder. The docent grinned at Rowena and added: "...And the museum and exhibits thought to make you something special."  
  


Revealed from the back of Larry: he held out a singular object.  
  


A large leather book.  
  


Her mouth opened in surprise; she wasn't expecting anything like this. She asked the growing crowd what it was, hearing the music quieten down. However, everyone only encouraged her to open it.  
  


The front of the book was blank, only the initials AMNH which she knew it stood for American Museum of Natural History stamped in small letters at the centre. With furrowed brows, she carefully balanced the book with her arm and opened the front with her other hand.  
  


In the front inner page was nothing but a photo of the front of the museum photographed at night. The statue of Teddy proudly posing at the front of the steps. On the next page made her gasp.  
  


They were all photos of the past four years at their time in the museum. Moments of when they had parties or football games. There was a picture of their first Thanksgiving and Christmas, with her and Larry in bright jumpers. The time – and the last time – they thought of pulling Halloween off. Others were photos of just several of them messing about in general, with various poses and funny faces.  
  


"Where did you get all these photos?" She asked them aloud, sighing in disbelief at all the pictures.  
  


Jedediah answered from atop of the countertop, "From Larry and Nick. Apparently, Nickyboy's been taking pictures of the museum ever since.”  
  


"Oh, and Rebecca and Ahk as well if I may recall," Octavius mentioned right next to the cowboy.  
  


Rowen bit her lip, grinning at every photo she looked through. Some of the photos were them during film night, sitting in blankets and beanbags and making a mess with the popcorn. A few of the photos involved her, Larry, Ahk and Rebecca drinking and carelessly using the decor around her office as costume accessories. That was a rather interesting night.  
  


As she turned the page, she spotted a series of pictures with Nick and the Museum. "Wow...this was Nick's birthday party." She breathed and gazed over to the young Daley: who sat on the desk with a toothless grin.  
  


She gave him a musing look before continuing. Other photos included their Night Programme, where she joined the 18th Century American and British talks. The Greek Muses were there, having performed a song to the exhibits one time.  
  


He pointed at a certain photo which had her, Rebecca, Nick and him at a game. "Look, this was when we went out to watch the baseball match. And you and Ahk dressing up to go to the Met Gala." Larry shook his head in disbelief. "I still can't believe you got in."  
  


Rowena gave him a mischievous smile and tapped her nose with her finger. She was not going to be telling how they got in and got photographed at the same time. Of course, she was invited to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and they had luckily given her an extra ticket. And she knew the only one that should experience that type of night was her best friend himself.  
  


But what came wasn't what she expected. A photo of her and Ahkmenrah: at the Met Gala.  
  


How the night guard found a photo online with them in their fancy coordinated clothes baffled her. Though, she didn't ask any further questions.  
  


"I think it was Ahk's photographic posing," Rowena smirked back at the pharaoh in question and he simply grinned.  
  


He somehow popped into the crowd, standing by Teddy and Sacagawea, perhaps after he quietened the music down from the DJ mixing table.  
  


After a few more flicks of pictures, she decided to close the photo album and clutch it against her test. Her heart had swelled twenty times after each photo and couldn't comprehend or say how grateful.  
  


"Thank you - all of you," Rowena said sincerely, gesturing her thanks to her friends around her.  
  


"Hey, not just yet. We also got you some things." Jedediah spoke aloud, "Something to remember us by."  
  


There were several gift-wrapped objects handed to her, the smallest being the size of a ring box to the largest being the size of her hand. Sacagawea and Teddy had given her joint present: a beaded necklace with a pendant in the shape of an arrow. Attila had given her a golden brooch and told her that it would give her good luck which she gladly accepted.  
  


Dexter had given her a set of toy keys, which she found amusing. The capuchin despite always eager to make their work difficult always showed love in his own way. Rowen thanked him very much before going to Jedediah and Octavius' present. A brooch that could easily be a weapon in emergencies.  
  


As for Nick, Rebecca and Larry: they got her something to remind her of America. A cute mug which had the familiar red, blue and white stars.  
  


After she unwrapped the mug, she eyed them. "You do realise I'll be visiting when I'm not working, right?" Rowena said.  
  


No matter how much the exhibits all reacted as if she was going away forever, she was telling the truth. She would come to visit from time to time, at least once a year if she wasn't heading to a stack of work when she heads back to London. For one thing, not going back was not an option.  
  


If she did have a longer time to choose, the first choice she would make is to stay here.  
  


"But we found out that you liked astronomy! And stars and space." Jedediah exclaimed out of nowhere and she blankly gazed at him.  
  


"What?"  
  


Rebecca hummed to agree with him. "McPhee's thinking of getting the planetarium renovated."  
  


With an eyebrow raised, Rowena placed down the presents on the countertop. She said, "Really? Call him being unsentimental..."  
  


There were several snickers and murmurs.  
  


"Actually...that was me," Ahkmenrah spoke aloud, making her heart stutter. "I asked McPhee if it was possible - and he agreed."  
  


He stared right at her, fiddling with his fingers as his cheeks grew slightly pink. Her heart quickened as her breath stammered. She wanted to come up to him and hug him so tightly, but instead, she stood still. But she couldn't help but grin at him, still processing what Ahkmenrah had said and done.  
  


Rowena really wanted to just run up to him and press her lips on his, though that didn't happen either.  
  


No one knew yet their relationship, and it was best to keep it that way - for now.  
  


"That's...wonderful of you." Rowena's eyes warmed as she gushed, "And all of you guys. But remember. It's not forever, alright? I'll come back sometime in the holidays or summer to visit."  
  


"We know, Rowen," Nick spoke, sadly smiling at her. "We're just going to miss you a lot."  
  


"We will miss you, Rowen," Attila spoke back in Hun and she bowed her head in response.  
  


At that moment, the capuchin crawled up to her arm and cooed. Hugging him by the side, she pressed a kiss on his lips. "I know, Dexter. I'll miss you too." She muttered and then faced the tyrannosaurus rex. "And Rexy. Keep scaring those pesky teenagers thinking you aren't cool."  
  


The dinosaur seemed to understand and nodded, before continuing to play with his toy.  
  


"What about me?"  
  


Rowena then turned to the Native American woman and approached her with wide arms. They both embraced as she murmured. "You Sacagawea, are one of my dearest friends." She lowered her voice as she spoke next to Sacagawea's ear. "Tell me if _he's_ not saying anything, okay?"  
  


When she pulled away, Sacagawea wore a glint in her eyes as she beamed back. "Always."  
  


Rowen then turned her heels to a certain couple of miniatures and placed her hands over hips. "And you two. Honestly, you better still be together when I come back." She smirked at them.  
  


Jedediah swatted his arm out, furiously red-cheeked. He assured her, "Pfft! Of course, we are, right 'Tavius?"  
  


Sharing the same look, Octavius nodded at her. "We'll be fine, Rowen. Nothing’s going to stop us from being apart.”  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The rest of the night, they spent it partying and playing party games in the main hall. She joined in when they began football and was lucky enough to score a goal. She passed the photo album around, letting the others see what Larry and Nick made whilst they played charades.  
  


Once everyone seemed tired enough and the exhibits began to disperse to their own halls, she helped some of the exhibits clean up and return the place back to normal. The worse way to end the night was to have Richard complaining about the mess they left on her last night.  
  


Larry was rather adamant for her to let the others clean it up, but a quick stare down zipped his lips and he allowed her to continue clearing the streamers and balloons away. Though when he suggested for her to take a break and keep Ahkmenrah, she had key suspicion that the night guard knew easily between the subtle eye contact she and the pharaoh had all evening.  
  


So much for keeping it a secret.  
  


She felt like an adolescent again, giddy to have the time to roam freely of her choice. Down the corridor on the first floor, she found Ahkmenrah waiting for her on a bench. He had put away the mixing table and the stereo in the security room along with Nick, so this was their only time together. That had given her the time to pick something up from her bag (which she now kept at the security room since her office was now completely empty).  
  


He gave her a cheerful expression, holding his hand out. Rowena returned the gesture and interlocked her fingers in his, smiling up at the Egyptian before they began their stroll through the museum.  
  


They kept silent for a while, allowing the sounds of the museum to fill the room instead.  
  


After a while, Rowena rotated her head to Ahkmenrah and said, "You know I must thank you for that."  
  


It took a few seconds for him to notice what she meant, and his eyes lit up. He waved his free hand and modestly answered, "It was nothing. It reminded me of our time back...back when we used to take night walks. And we would stargaze." He told her, "We would compare the names of the constellations and discuss the uses of them. You would then tell me how stars were so far away and burn as hot as the sun. How they would be destructive despite their beauty."  
  


Her lips twitched at the words he spoke, intrigued again by the thought process he had. It was one of the things that Rowena admired the pharaoh for. His careful thoughts and creativity. The words he chose told her much who he was true; someone that saw the world and the things around him in detail and ingenuity.  
  


Overall, she still couldn't believe the great lengths he took to consider even asking Richard about the Hayden Planetarium. It was always a project her friend always wanted to do for the museum. It would seem Ahkmenrah gave a little nudge in persuading him to make it happen.  
  


Rowen was about to thank him, but his face morphed to seriousness. The confusion then rose from hers, and she gave him a concerned look.  
  


With his hand still in hers, his thumb rubbed against the back of her palm. He sighed, "I know it's not the right time, but I just remembered Peggy." Ahkmenrah gazed at her and asked, "May I ask... What happened during that time?"  
  


Her mind backtracked slightly.  
  


His eyes then widened, and he panicked. "You don't have to say." His face turned pink once more. "I... I just wanted to ask but I know it's terrible of me to ask when you're..."  
  


His mumbling was cut short as she let go of his hand and placed her hand over his cheek. His eyelids closed, comforted by the feeling of her palm against his cheek before blinking back at her.  
  


"Understandable." She reassured him, "I know you want to know. But even for me: it is difficult to speak what happened. It's why I didn't want to hurt you. You loved her. And she loved you."  
  


Then, Ahkmenrah whispered at her, "I... I loved her like she was my own." He added, "A daughter, I mean."  
  


Shock lined her face as her heart sped.  
  


Did she hear it right?  
  


"Why, if I may ask?" She asked quietly, feeling his hand hover over hers that was on his face.  
  


He gently moved her hand back down as he let out an exhale. "I was never betrothed or married. I decided not to marry until I found the right one. My brother didn't mind; he wanted me to be happy." Ahkmenrah's eyes began to water, "So experiencing what's it like to spend time with a child just gave me a taste of what's it like to be a parent. A father. And in fact, it seems so scary."  
  


Her eyes watered, widening at the revelation that had been revealed. "Really?" She breathed.  
  


Letting out a laugh, he nodded furiously. "Yes. I was more terrified in answering her question than ruling a kingdom."  
  


"I never thought of that." A grin then crept up her lips.  
  


Never had she imagined Ahkmenrah ever confessing something like this. She assumed that Peggy and his' relationship solely was between friends.  
  


However, to hear from him that Peggy was like a daughter to him could have sent her crying in his arms. So instead, she pulled her emotions away and stretched out the small object in her hand in front of her.  
  


"Here." Rowena spoke, "My present to you."  
  


With a curious expression, he took removed her hand from his and allowed himself to smoothen his hand over the cover of the journal - her journal.  
  


Several seconds later, and more flickering of pages: Ahkmenrah flicked his head to her and gasped, "But this is yours? Your entire life is _this_."  
  


She wryly smiled and replied, "Not entirely. I never fully explained to you what they were." She pointed at the journal, small in comparison to his hands. "...They are journals of my life. I think I began writing during the French Revolution. It'll fill you on some of the moments after you left and before I got here."  
  


He gave her another glance as he asked, "Are you sure?"  
  


Rowena nodded, "I started my new one just as I got here actually." She explained, "The last extract is in 1999 I believe."  
  


Shaking his head in a moment of disbelief, Ahkmenrah closed the journal and kept it in his right hand. "I guess we are even then with presents." He pointed out.  
  


Raising her eyebrow, she received a confused look before she smiled back.  
  


Rowena supported herself by carefully grabbing the side of his shoulder, closing the gap of their lips. He tenderly moulded his onto hers, closing his eyes after a breath escaped her lips.  
  


A flutter of butterflies in stomach appeared once more, and a gentle stream of heat entered her chest as her heart leapt in glee. She wished that they could have this moment happen again and again, but sadly - they both needed air.  
  


When she pulled away slightly, with a hoarse voice: she whispered. "Hmm, what about now?"  
  


He eased her posture by tilting his head down to her, and answered with a rough voice, "I might have to even you with another kiss, my lady."  
  


She grinned through their kiss, a little chuckle escaping his mouth. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and she took the advantage of having both hands free to comb her hands through his hair - his scent almost intoxicating her.  
  


Their kiss was then abrupted by the noise of a toy car.  
  


They quickly pulled apart. But to hers and probably Ahkmenrah's annoyance: the car zoomed around the corner, heading away from them. She glanced at him, only to find him grumbling and muttering about having to still talk to the two about messing with his emotions.  
  


Either way: they should be more careful, even if the hallway was empty except themselves.  
  


Rowena answered his previous comment and tutted: "I'm not a lady anymore, your majesty."  
  


Smirking back, he pressed another kiss on her cheek before his eyes saddened. "I'm going to miss you so much, **_mer ek_**." He muttered to her.  
  


She reminded him, "Remember. I'm a call away, _amicus meus_."  
  


“It won’t be the same.” He said sadly.  
  


“I know.”  
  


Ahkmenrah gazed at her as he said, "Sunrise is coming. May you stay with me until then?"  
  


A small smile graced her lips as Rowena replied, "Always."  
  


They spent the last half hour walking back to his exhibit, taking a long way back so they could have more time together. She knew she should have spent the last moments together with the others, but Rowena knew somehow that the others understood what she was going through when it came to leaving the Egyptian again. They had given them the space they needed, and the time to say their goodbyes.  
  


From then, they didn't care if anyone did see them closer than usual. Though everyone seemed to be ready for sunrise tonight.  
  


Therefore, when they arrived at the Egyptian exhibit, Rowena helped him get ready for the morning by putting the wraps again and tucking the journal into the corner of his sarcophagus. Once he was done, sunrise was coming.  
  


"This is it." A breath left his lips as he paused. Ahkmenrah said to her with blinking tears. "Farewell Guardian of Cambridge."  
  


Those words stung her heart, sending her gulping back a sob. She heard too many goodbyes all her life, all letting her know that even in her case - they would leave her first before she could realise how much they meant more to her. First her family, then the friends and people that helped her through the hardship. So, to hear it from the man that had sneaked into her heart hurt her more than anything. A heart that has been broken and mended again and again until what was left was only sand and dust.  
  


She told herself to be brave, to think of the positives. They will see each other again - may it be a month or a year. Rowena could only wish one thing and that was she wished that he will never forget her.  
  


Since he wasn't stuck in the sarcophagus anymore, he was free to wander. To meet the people visiting the museum. Potentially find someone. Perhaps someone better. Would he move on from her? Would he forget her and the moments they had these past months?   
  


Rowena shook those thoughts away. Those were the thoughts she shouldn't think about. But then again, Rowena couldn't help it. In the back of her head, she knew she will always be worried.   
  


Shaking her head, she uttered back, "Never a farewell, Pharaoh of Egypt."  
  


Ahkmenrah’s hand caressed her cheek and she leaned in with closed eyes.  
  


Rowena blinked away the tears spilling down her cheeks as she spoke, "Just a see you later."  
  


Leaning down, he pressed his trembling lips on her forehead, and she felt the presence of his embrace for one last time.   
  


And what she had needed is what he gave her - a grin stretched over his face as he clambered into the sarcophagus. Once he was seated, he swallowed audibly and placed a bandaged hand over hers.  
  


"Good Morning, Rowena."  
  


"Good morning, Ahkmenrah..." She whispered to him before pulling away from the lid.  
  


Once the lid shut close, she glanced over at the Tablet and saw it glow for the final time.  
  


Sunrise had arrived.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXIII  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

Opening the boot of the car, he lugged out the heavy suitcase from the back and carefully placed it onto the sidewalk. He shut the door with a swift move and brushed his hands over each other. After he shut the car door and made sure everyone was out and had all their stuff, they went to pay for the parking and headed up to the entrance.  
  


The airport was busy as always, with travellers arriving and departing every minute. Though it wasn't difficult to find the right entrance where Rowen's check-in gate was and a free trolley to prop her suitcase in.  
  


He was only glad that it was a dry and sunny day, plenty of time to just wait about since they were a bit early. This morning, they spent the last hours helping Rowen pack and sort all her things. It wasn't much, considering how organised she was with her paperwork and other issues. Larry and she had sold her car a month ago and had cleared her office the week after that. Her house was cleared away from any of her things with the help of Leslie Carter.  
  


So, all was left of her belongings was what she had now. A bag and a suitcase, with tickets back to London.  
  


When they arrived at the front entrance, he noticed other families and group saying their farewells, and he gulped the numb feeling. He realised that she was going. All those months after Rowen revealed that she was heading back to London felt so far away. And now: here they were.  
  


His son was the first to break into tears, clinging onto the petite woman with scrunched eyes. Larry smiled sadly at the two as his heart swelled at them.  
  


Nick saw Rowen as an aunt, or even sometimes a big sister depending in the situation. She would always tell stories of her time during the 19th and 20th Century and never hesitated to speak the grim bits of history. Nick enjoyed taking her to his hockey matches and taking her all around New York to experience the life of an American.  
  


So, to see them say their goodbyes broke Larry's heart slightly. His son never grew so attached to someone so quickly other than Rebecca. He supposed it was the fact that Rowen was a mother herself.  
  


She glanced down at Nick and tidied his hair to the side. "You take care of your father, okay? I want him in his top shape when I come back." Rowen spoke.  
  


With glassy eyes, Nick sniffed with a grin. "Will do Rowen." He nodded before stepping away.  
  


"Where's my hug?" Rebecca joked and Rowen rolled her eyes.  
  


Larry watched the two women embrace, whispering to each other something. He wasn't sure what they were talking about, but Rowen somehow eyed him from Rebecca's shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow. ' _I hope they're not talking about me that badly_ ,' He thought to himself.  
  


They pulled away as Rowena grinned, "Rebecca." She spoke, "Keep those student's off my pharaoh will you, when you're back?"  
  


Her eyes averted to him and he took all his will to not smirk back.  
  


He could only thank Rebecca for the comment she answered with, "Does that include the young women fawning at him too? They've been giving Adonis their number ever since."  
  


"Shut up." Rowen bit her lip and slyly gave her a look. "...And maybe."  
  


Rebecca then gave her another hug before speaking, "Have a safe journey, Rowen."  
  


When his girlfriend took a step away, it was his turn to approach her. Larry began, "So…" A fake-devastating tone came out of his mouth as he said, "This is goodbye."  
  


Rowen shook her head and retorted, "You make it as if I'm never going back, Daley."  
  


Flashing a grin, he answered: "Well, it seemed like it when I saw someone cry in surprise at the night guard getting dragged by a tyrannosaurus rex across the floor."  
  


Her eyes teared under the glint of the sun, and she wiped them with her hand as she jumped into his arms. Larry luckily caught her in time and inhaled as the air was knocked out his body.  
  


He couldn't deny that he wanted to cry. Without the woman in front of him, Larry would still be hopping from job to job and struggling to live his life. And then Rowen arrived, and coincidences occurred. His life turned upside down and inside-out in a matter of a night. On the third night was when everything changed: and he was living the happiest part of his adulthood.  
  


A job that he loved and settled well, with the potential love of his life, his son and friends that he has come to terms to as a family.  
  


But he couldn't have done without Rowen Bates, the most brilliant and generous person he had ever met. No matter what situation he was in, she somehow never gave up on him. Even when he was giving up on himself. She was there to support his ideas and aid him if it didn't work. That was what a friend should be. And Larry was lucky he met a person like her.  
  


"I'm gonna miss you, Larry Daley. You and your absolutely barmy ideas." She laughed as she pulled away from his embrace.  
  


Letting a laugh, he replied. "Thanks. I'm gonna miss you too." Larry pointed out, "But perhaps not your punches. And your jump scares, holy crap. You seriously need to stop doing them."  
  


"I will try."  
  


"I don't seem convinced."  
  


She changed the subject, a serious tone in her voice. "Keep the Tablet safe, will you? For me and our sakes."  
  


His head nodded intently. "Never am I going to leave it again. My words, Bates." A thought then popped into his head and waggled his finger at her in tease, "Oh, and don't think you and Ahk haven't been sneaking out every other night."  
  


"Lawrence Daley! Don't snitch on me." Rowen swatted a hand at his arm.  
  


"You two I swear..." He grinned and truthfully answered, "But I'm happy that you've gotten over you thick heads about it all. Even if you know...one's   
technically dead and the other's very alive-"

She groaned, shaking her head. "You're insufferable, Daley." Rowen pleaded, "Please just... don't tell the others just yet."  
  


"I won't. Scouts honour." He grinned back.  
  


As she went to grab the trolley handle, she glanced at him for the last time and asked, "Be safe, will you?"  
  


"I will, Ro." Larry nodded and squeezed her hand in reassurance.  
  


He then let go of her, falling back next to Rebecca as he slowly snaked his arm around her waist. At the other side of him, he tucked Nick under his arm - watching Rowen push the trolley towards the entrance.  
  


She paused and looked behind them.  
  


Rowen Bates smiled back.  
  


Her eyes lit up the same as he first saw her that day at the park.  
  


Once she merged with the rest of the people around them, it was more difficult to spot her from the crowd. But once Larry noticed the familiar coat and braided hair head to the check-in counter, he knew it was time to go.  
  


It was fine anyway; she would text before she got on the place and call her once she lands in London.  
  


With a hefty sigh, he told the other two that it was time to go home. They needed some sleep after last night, and Nick had school the following day. It didn't help that their walk to the car was quiet, a heavy sad atmosphere around them as the feeling of Rowen's absence seeped into their minds.  
  


Their drive through the city back to their apartment was silent as well, Rebecca staring out and giving him several glances. Larry gulped. In another few months, she would away too. And this time it would be all over the world, promoting her book for a few months.  
  


"Hey, Dad?"  
  


His thoughts were paused. He glanced quickly at the back mirror to find his son looking at him. He asked, "What is it, Nicky?"  
  


"I miss Rowen already."  
  


Rebecca and he shared the same sad look.  
  


Larry spoke, "Me too, kid."  
  


From the mirror, Nick was gazing away out of the window - his eyes never lying how he truly felt. By the corner of his eye, Rebecca bit her lip and clutched his free hand tighter.  
  


He smiled sadly. "It's not gonna be the same without her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter actually got me tearing up. To see both Larry and Rowena grow character-wise as close friends really remind me of my own friends. And the friendship and family vibe the whole Museum has with Rowena just sends me sighing in happiness.
> 
> The planetarium, as you would like to know, is going to be the very same one that is going to appear in the third movie. Since the movie starts off with a dinner party, it's a sort of way to link the two parts together. As for our lovely couple, Rowena and Ahkmenrah are going to have a very difficult time adjusting to a secret long-distance relationship.
> 
> Next one is the last chapter of Part 2, and I'm going to spice things up with a new PoV... ;)
> 
> [Edited 11/2020]: Just tidying part 2 before tackling parts 3 and 4.


	34. Ante Bellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AnteBellum - Before or existing before war [Latin]
> 
> Leslie is visited by a man from her boyfriend's company looking for her family. Cecil is visited by someone unexpected.
> 
> And we witness a new perspective of the order. Chaos and Order in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back. Now, this is the last chapter of Part 2. Thank you so much for being with me so far since the beginning. And if you've just caught up, it's great that a lot of you are loving this! When I first wrote this, I was expecting just a short story, but now it's grown into something quite big.
> 
> Part 3 will be uploaded once I'm free and probably when I'm several of chapters ahead of schedule. At this moment I am 4 chapters ahead, but I'm trying to aim for 6 chapters gap so I have some allowance and time to edit. So expect me to just edit the beginning of the story in the next few days.
> 
> Thank you again and I love you all. <3

** Leslie VI  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

August rolled around once more, which would have meant something for her if she were still in university.  
  


But this year, things have changed drastically.  
  


She graduated, and top of her class which surprised her. All those nights where she struggled to even keep her eyelids open when her energy comprised of caffeine and energy drinks - all for her dissertation and preparation for the final exams. In the end, she got what she wanted: grades good enough to pass for her qualification and a job allowing her to work in New York City's best hospitals as a doctor.  
  


The title Doctor still felt odd to her taste. Never would Leslie have imagined seeing it on her name. Kai and Garret would often tease her in the last few months how one title could change her whole personality. Which was kind of a lie. She didn't feel any different when people called her Dr Carter. Sure, some people gave her the odd look, mostly taken back in surprise that she wasn't that pretty girl with no brains.  
  


She guessed that this was how Rowen experienced whenever she was discussing with some people at work. There were still looks of uncertainty at her and one of them had the audacity to talk behind her back that she didn't deserve to have the qualification. That Leslie Carter shouldn't be a doctor and should just stay at home (which the older male doctors muttered as they passed her down the hall at work).  
  


Rowen would talk her down and tell her to ignore those things. She told her to be confident and prove those people wrong. Leslie would have gone to her house, have some All English Breakfast tea and cry over how people talked behind her back.  
  


However, three months have gone by and the history professor and curator left back to go to the UK once more - leaving another house empty and a chair in her dining room unused.  
  


Leo knew somehow the changes as well despite two years since Rowen had moved out. Though with the halt of Rowen's visits, Leslie's cat somehow knew how she felt. How a cat could sense more than just their own surroundings, but their feelings too, was what made her get Leo in the first place.  
  


It was her day off from the hospital. She was spending the day alone whilst Garret was off again at work.  
  


When Garret first moved in, Leo was far from welcoming to him as much as the next person. He would hiss at the front window whenever Garret came back from university or from his job at the museum. This irked her boyfriend more, as he was already slightly allergic to Leo and promised her that he would take medicine to keep his symptoms down. But the hissing didn't stop right there.  
  


Leo would almost be possessive, protecting Leslie whenever they were in bed just chatting during the morning and night. However, their mutual hatred did diminish. Her cat would just ignore Garret whenever he was around the house or just goes out into the back garden.  
  


So, when she heard that said cat hiss at the front window - Leslie was confused.  
  


She stalked into the lounge, muttering to him who he had been reacting to. Though her question was answered when the doorbell rang. Curiosity got to her as she left Leo in the lounge and headed to the front door. Questions wracked her brain, wondering who would be behind the door in the middle of the day. Leslie checked herself in the mirror, making sure she appeared decent.  
  


Once she opened the door, Leslie was met by a man standing in front of her.  
  


The first thing that comes out of her mouth was, "Can I help you?"  
  


To her, it came out as rude. But she had to admit that the man (who seemed to be twenty years older than her) in front of her already had stern expression plastered on his face - masked by a fake faint smile.  
  


He was wearing a black suit, his hands in front and held together. That already screamed a warning sign in her head, considering all the spy movies' Leslie's watched - men in black knocking on people's doors is the first step into trouble. She should have closed the door, or even better: never have opened it.  
  


But here she was seeing two other men behind him on the curb, a black expensive car by the road. She grasped the door tightly, ready to shut it.  
  


She focused on what he appeared, tanned skin with dark brown hair. His face was clean-shaven with amber eyes.  
  


The man then spoke, "Hello, Dr Carter. A pleasure to meet you."  
  


That caught her off guard, making her raise an eyebrow. "Who are you?" Leslie asked.  
  


"We are The Saqqara Historical Agency." He explained himself. "S.H.A for short."  
  


The name then seeped into her mind and she realised who they were. "Oh, you're here for Garret then? Well, he's not here at the moment..." Confusion edged her voice.  
  


Why were they looking for him, when he was out with Kai at the museum?  
  


"We aren't here for Mr Trench." The man answered and asked, "May we come in?"  
  


If her parents were here, they would already be telling this man to - and in her dad's words: “to fuck off”. Who was this man and why does he think he has the right to enter her home? At this point, Leslie felt her chest tighten, her heart racing as she was ready to push the door and slam it into his face.  
  


She hadn't done anything at all, so did something happen to Garret? Oh hell, did he do something wrong?  
  


Then her stupid curiosity got to her and she stiffly responded, "Only you." She then eyed his body. "And empty your pockets."  
  


The man only blinked back in surprise.  
  


"I don't trust people wearing shiny suits with his so-called fellows, a black car and a gun in their jacket." Leslie faked a smile, sweetening her tone before pulling the door wider.  
  


The man opened his mouth and cough slightly. "Apologies, Dr Carter. Of course."  
  


She kept her eyes trained on him as he gestured to the other two to wait outside. He removed the gun (which surprised her even more because Leslie was only joking about the gun) and passed it to one of the men, sliding it into their own jacket. As she slid to the side to indicate to him, the man entered. Leslie then told him to remove his shoes first before they could talk in the lounge.  
  


After another minute of her panicking in her mind as the man followed her instructions and entered the lounge, Leslie was sat in front of him. She asked him everything a host would say a little thing that her mum taught her every time they had a visitor.  
  


When the man declined all her questions, it was then they sat down facing each other. Her own eyes piercing his own dark ones. She was looking around, trying to ignore the pressure in the room growing.  
  


"So…what did you want to discuss?" Leslie slowly began the conversation, fidgeting to get comfy in her seat.  
  


The man then proceeded, "We'd like to ask about your family." He paused. "More specifically your grandfather's side of the family."  
  


"Who?"  
  


"Edmund Carter."  
  


She blinked in response and thought, ' _Grandpa Ed? What do they want from him?_ '  
  


She then replied back, "Yes, I know my grandfather. He's quite alive."  
  


"Do you know where Edmund Carter would be?" The man asked, still a stagnant expression on him.  
  


"Why?"  
  


That caught him off guard, his jaw growing tight as he re-positioned his hands over his lap. From what she could tell, the man didn't do much on-hands work. They were too soft, unused. But she could tell from the muscles under his palms that he was strong. For once, her observations made her question more on why someone like him was curious about an archaeologist - those that worked tirelessly digging and brushing.  
  


He then explained, "He is a rather important historian, which I'm sure you're aware of." The man continued, "We have been trying to contact him for one of our projects. Something your partner contributed in during his dig in Egypt - funded by Dr Bates."  
  


"Why do you need him?" Leslie questioned, a sharper edge in her voice. "He retired twenty years ago. He hasn’t been consulting for the last five either.”  
  


She didn't like it one bit. This man turns up, telling her no name and asking for her grandpa out of all people? It wasn't just curiosity; it was a concern.  
  


She regretted snapping back at him since his face changed, morphing to try and relax her. "Dr Carter...Leslie." Her eyes flashed at them. "You have nothing to worry about."  
  


"Nothing to worry about?" She gritted her teeth as she spoke, "I let you into my home and you ask of my grandfather."  
  


The man answered, "I know we came through without notice. But we are just asking if there are any things left under his name? Information regarding the Qattara Expedition would be beneficial."  
  


Leslie gave him a look, staring directly with no nerve. She would not give in to this unknown person. "The Qattara Expedition was fifty years ago. I didn't know much of it apart from some photos and stories told directly from him." She lied. "All of his work were all sent to him at Luxor, sorry-"  
  


He then stood up, reaching his hand at and spoke, "Perhaps we could help you search-"  
  


She then cut him off, looking away to spot Leo's tail crawling behind the door. Once she looked back at him, she replied tightly. "As I said: all of my family heirlooms and stuff are now with my family members. I don't know about any of his own stuff is here." Leslie then added, "My cousin, Abby Neal. She lives in Queens; she might have more information."  
  


The man only stared back, analysing her words carefully. After a few seconds later, he nodded back. "I see. Thank you for your cooperation, Dr Carter."  
  


Nodding back, she quietly guided him towards the front door, her own heart racing as the man followed her through. She waited for him to slip his shoes on, trying to calm herself after lying to a dodgy man in black. When she opened the door again, she noticed that the men hadn't moved, only observing from afar as the man stepped out.  
  


Leo hissed by her side and she rushed out a quick apology to him. He shrugged it off, a smile on his lips. "Have a good rest of the day."  
  


He walked down the steps and paused.  
  


"Oh, and a word of advice Dr Carter," The man said. "We suggest being careful around Dr Bates."  
  


This made Leslie tense once more. "Why?" She inhaled.  
  


All he said was this: "Confidential." He gave her another smile. "We assure you it's for your safety. Have a good day."  
  


Leslie did not move from her spot as she watched the three men entered the car. They didn't look behind back at her as the engine started - driving off down the street. By the time the black car vanished around the block was when she felt herself exhale the breath she held all that time.  
  


One moment she was in the front door, the next she was back up in the spare bedroom. The same one Rowen used. Leslie tried to scramble around, trying to search for the thing she was anticipating looking for. When she did, she unclasped the locks on the back, opening the chest and removed the photograph of her great-grandfather, Robert Daley and Emilia Darcy.  
  


On the back of the photograph was a number.  
  


' _Should I?_ ' Leslie asked herself.  
  


But another five minutes pacing around the room, she returned the photograph into its frame.  
  


' _No. Not this time._ ' Leslie assured herself. ' _Only for emergencies, Mom said. And I'm alive so that's fine._ '  
  


She still wasn’t sure who they really were. Though with Leo’s wariness of the men in black, Leslie could tell it was not simply just for some historical consultancy. She bit her lip and settled herself with her feline companion. Soothing her, Leo curled up against her embrace as she tried to dull her mind with the television.  
  


‘ _Should I tell Garret?_ ’ She thought, and then shook her head. ‘ _No, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to know about them._ ’ Leslie asked Leo, “What about you, boy? What do you think?”  
  


Leo meowed back.  
  


Leaning back with a sigh, though the tension still in her body, Leslie spoke, “Same, boy. I get what you mean.”  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Cecil III  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

Somewhere in another part of town, Cecil was sitting inside his room.  
  


Sitting across him were two young men around the age of what seemed to be their mid-twenties.  
  


The first man he knew already. The half-Asian man had continuously been visiting him for just over a year now, often called himself Winterson (he assumed that was his surname). He was calmer and collected than the other man: who seemed more agitated to get out than to sit and talk.  
  


Cecil snorted in his head. It seemed the man was new. A recruit would act like this and would rather get information by force than through negotiation. However, Cecil knew deeply the parts of their cult. Their Order. And recklessness and abrasive techniques were not part of their code.  
  


"So, do you have it?" The new man questioned.  
  


He replied innocently, "Have what, dear boy?"  
  


"The plans?" The new man demanded.  
  


He patted the briefcase he had by his chair, "Right here?"  
  


The man went to grab it, but Cecil tutted his teeth. "Not until I get my share," He added.  
  


The new man glared back and snarled, "You got your fair share when Larry Daley got you out of prison." The man next to Winterson tightened his jaw. "I would have them take you-"  
  


"Hey, calm down."  
  


Winterson gave his partner a look. He then returned to Cecil with a sigh, "Look. We're only here for the plans for the artefact and that is all. We are hoping you know where you kept them?"  
  


"Obviously with me, of course. Where else would I have it hidden?" Cecil rolled his eyes, taking out the folder. "But I want your part of the deal."  
  


The folder that was tattered and yet intact for a decade had been hiding at the museum. There were the right sketches and copies of the notes from his father and Emilia Darcy's expedition - all down from the little details. Plans that the Jackal had asked for him years ago, but never needed them - until now.  
  


Unfolding the black briefcase, the young man took a piece of paper out.  
  


"Here. All signed and transferred." Winterson slid the paper contract to his side of the table. "For a man of your age, you don't need that much cash."  
  


When he glanced down, he made a noise of agreement. But it was not really what he was looking for.  
  


Cecil answered, "It's not cash I want." He said, "I asked for my place. My half of the bargain."  
  


"I will discuss it him when the meeting happens." Winterson nodded and picked up the folder. "For now, thank you for your cooperation once more Mr Fredricks."  
  


The two men stood up and bowed. Though before they left his room, the unnamed man approached him.  
  


"Oh, and the recorder." He held his hand out. "We need evidence to know that you have been doing what you've asked for."  
  


Cecil gazed up with an unimpressed look. ‘ _This boy is easily going to be pulled apart if he keeps this façade._ ’ He snorted to himself. ‘ _Especially with the Scarab and the Jackal here._ ’  
  


But slowly, Cecil took out the headpiece in his jumper and put it in his hand. The man gave it to Winterson, who placed it into a small container and tucked it into his pocket.  
  


"And I have, Mr Winterson, believe me." He said firmly. "I've said more than what was needed."  
  


"Thank you again, sir. You will be hearing more from us soon." The other man nodded and urged Winterson out. "Come on..."  
  


Cecil grimly looked, and then saw the small slip of paper that Winterson left. Once the door closed, he picked it up and unfolded to see the familiar coded language.  
  


> **S is out. J is back. Will contact you soon for more news.**
> 
> **-KW  
>   
> **

He scrunched the paper and headed over to his dresser. Inside the empty compartment was a small lighter. Lighting a small flame, he burnt the remnants of the note and placed the lighter back to its place.  
  


There was a growing feeling of guilt in his chest. What he had done just now was do something he now regretted. After what Rowen Bates confessed to him. Her apology to him…  
  


“I am sorry, as well.” Cecil murmured to himself.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Salma I  
  
**

**_2010 - New York City  
  
_ **

Salma was not her true name.  
  


Yes, it was her current name; the one she carried for almost thirty years. Though truthfully, she forgot who her first name was, what her first family was, their names and if she had siblings or even more family. She forgot what she was like as a child, or what it was like to grow up in a world where invaders came to take her and her family away.  
  


But what she remembered was her first death.  
  


The day they put her on a cross. Nailed her arms onto the sides, hanging there on the walls of her city. How they, these people who thought they were getting rid of what was evil: were about to regret something they had done.  
  


They burned her, feeling her skin cook under her nose as the flames rose. She held the hidden golden token she wore under her dress, feeling it cool under the touch. She felt it, no matter how much the fire turned white in her eyes. Her screams filling every cavern of her mind.  
  


And then everything turned black. And felt herself in a wasteland of darkness.  
  


Something brought her there, like a force. Something that no human mortal could see or feel or touch. She heard her name echo in her ear. The first name she was born with. It was deep and alluring. It tempted her, easing her in like a predator to its prey. The voice gave her something in return.  
  


The truth of the golden coin. The eye and the truth of the stories. One revolved around the gods. And how one killed another.  
  


Chaos versus Order.  
  


All she had to do that moment was to accept the request.  
  


And she did.  
  


What she did not know was that she sold her life to the God of Chaos. And Salma Atkins loved it.  
  


"Welcome. It has been a while since we all met."  
  


The man at the head of the table spoke, standing up straight.  
  


There were seven other people in the room she sat in – all men with various backgrounds and appearances. She sat two seats away from the man speaking, her nose up high as she intently glanced around the room with dead eyes. She could feel the tension rising, something they have established when it came to meetings like this.  
  


Across from her was a man in the most luxurious tuxedo she ever saw. Navy and velvet underneath, the Jackal ignored her eyes as she stared.  
  


Salma raised an eyebrow mentally, unimpressed that they still held a grudge over what happened decades ago. It was not her fault that the Jackal poorly made the wrong choices over some golden tablet – despite being the most valuable artefact they needed.  
  


Anyways, she then focused onto the words the man – the Lion they called him – begin their meeting.  
  


"It is a pleasure to see you all. Certainly, in a period of time when phone calls and emails exist. Or perhaps a tweet." The Lion said, earning several snickers. "But we know that things like this are intercepted. The best way is always the old-fashion way."  
  


"Good thing we're not using ravens or eagles anymore." A man on her right, the Crocodile, quipped.  
  


The Lion gave a smile and nodded. "Indeed. Though, we are not here to discuss methods of communication." His face then contorted to a serious tone. "We have gotten a message from the Oracle."  
  


Salma raised her eyebrows and was surprised. The Oracle hardly made any prophecies or predictions in decades. The last one had to be a century ago: and this involved the golden Tablet of Khonsu.  
  


The Hyena asked, "What did the Oracle say?"  
  


"The Oracle..." The Lion began: "The Oracle said that 'End is Near'. That the line between order and chaos is thinning, growing weaker by the minute. A new age of peace will occur, and balance could only be restored through the powers of the divine."  
  


The Vulture scoffed. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  


"Don't disrespect the Oracle!" The Hyena slammed their hand over the table, making her raised her eyebrow.  
  


Salma, being the youngest and the only woman, knew she was being watched by every other of them. They wanted to see if she could slip, even if they do not realise that they are ones falling apart. She could rage all she wanted, tell the Vulture to keep his tongue shut for cutting the Lion off. For once she understood what the Hyena felt.  
  


The Oracle was a vital ally despite being neutral between their Order and the other one. They knew the future more than anyone they could think of and hardly gave them the visions.  
  


Therefore, the lack of respect the Vulture had was something that made her blood slightly boil.  
  


"Enough."  
  


From across her, the Jackal said back to the two bickering men. He drawled out, relaxing his features to a sombre look. "We cannot argue between ourselves for something so minuscule. I understand that. We must respect our greater allies, especially the Oracle."  
  


She saw the Jackal look at her for a moment, a twitch in his eye that made her clench her fingers to the smallest change. When she darted her eyes to the man beside him, younger and... unexperienced by her eye: Salma smirked before returning to the Lion.  
  


The Lion sighed, "Thank you, Jackal. Let us continue." He said, "This indicates that his plan is beginning."  
  


Now she was listening, and she sat up straighter.  
  


The younger man, who bore a similar resemblance at the Lion, pressed a remote and the projector turned on.  
  


Right in front of them was the photo of the Tablet.  
  


"The Tablet of Khonsu or commonly known as the Tablet of Ahkmenrah..." The Lion explained. "As we all know is in the American Museum of Natural History for almost fifty-eight years. Brought here by who was known as Samuel Fredricks."  
  


A picture of a male man in his forties came up. She remembered the man. Rather full of himself and rarely had anything important to talk about other than his own accomplishments. Samuel Fredricks was a snobby man who grew old and tired of his son.  
  


Though what this forty-year-old man realised back then was how vital his son was to them.  
  


"Samuel Fredrick's son, Cecil Fredricks is – or was – in our Order." The Lion spoke.  
  


The Crocodile asked, "Was?"  
  


It was the Jackal's turn to explain. "He was used as our eyes of the Tablet. To make sure he knew the findings and the information needed for us to go to _Project Tau_."  
  


" _Project Tau_ has been abandoned," Salma calmly answered, and stared at the Jackal.  
  


His dark eyes blinked and said, "Who said it was abandoned?"  
  


It took all her will to not snap back at him.  
  


She replied, "Me. I decided that fifteen years ago." She leaned forward. "Or do you forget who is in charge of North America?"  
  


The Jackal narrowed his eyes.  
  


"I abandoned it because it was a plan with many holes," Salma spoke. "The Smithsonian came alive last year, and Khafre tried to open the gate. However, he was defeated despite the aid of the underworld and him.”  
  


The Order and the Six Heads knew what occurred that night. It was there that they finally knew what they were expecting. A Tablet that could possibly turn inanimate figures and dead souls return to the living. That night had shone like a beacon to them that Salma wanted to laugh at the naivety of the so-called guardians.  
  


However, that night wouldn’t have happened if she had not interfered. She pulled the governor’s decisions like strings, tugging them to the direction in which the Director of the American Museum of Natural History had not choice but to comply and move the old exhibits.  
  


At first it didn’t exactly work. The pesky woman – Dr Micarah Campbell – had to insist to keep Ahkmenrah and the Tablet in New York.  
  


Salma would have to thank the guardians’ own stupidity for that.  
  


The wax statue of Khafre was commissioned by her team, posing as Kahmunrah for the gate. She had hoped that in doing so, the pharaoh would finish the mission they have wanted. But that did not end up to what she predicted.  
  


“Also: I know _it_ will not work. The Tablet is very much unique.” Salma pointed, “Nothing can replace an artefact that is blessed by Khonsu. Your lovely plan would have been a waste."  
  


The Jackal said, "Oh really?"  
  


Confusion wracked her brain and she slowly turned to the Lion for clarification. And with his eyes, Salma stayed quiet and breathed.  
  


" _Project Tau_ has been decided to be continued," The Lion answered, and a new slide showed a map of the world.  
  


In the map, several points were highlighted. One of them was Egypt.  
  


The Lion told them, "I visited one of our fellow spies' homes. His partner is linked to one of our key suspects into finding the missing piece of our search." He smiled, "She was a kind girl. Knew well enough not to trust strange men in suits."  
  


The Vulture asked, "And what did you want from her?"  
  


"Just information of course." The Lion replied and exhaled. "Unfortunately, it wasn't that much. Just a key thing that we all know we thought was the truth."  
  


When The Lion's son clicked the next slide, a picture of an old man in a newspaper article popped up.  
  


Salma's eyes widened.  
  


There on the screen was Edmund Carter – in Luxor out of all places.  
  


She wanted to laugh. It had been thirty years since they have stopped looking for that man. The man who has been trying to hide from them for forty years. And his granddaughter shone a large spotlight on him.  
  


Everyone seemed to be out of their chairs, a mixture of shock to amusement. The Crocodile whistled, "It would seem dear granddaughter didn't know he's special..."  
  


"What is his part of the plan?"  
  


Everyone turned to the Jackal's son.  
  


Salma did not know his name, though it was rather bold of him to speak. The first time she spoke aloud as the prodigy of the Scarab: they all laughed at her. They called her idea to be a dream, that it could never happen.  
  


But here she was. She forced a king off his throne and chucked him out to watch Europe.  
  


So, before anyone could speak Salma answered him: "Edmund Carter was involved in an excavation that was very hush-hush. No one knew of it, even the press or media or the Ministry of Antiquities." She added, "Quite out of his comfort zone if you look at his background. Life of luxury from his dead father, with two wives: both dead."  
  


The Jackal ignored her emphasis and glared.  
  


"But of course, words get out. One of our spies noticed patterns of shipment down to the parts near Aswan. Ships containing cargo to help move large things. Perhaps machinery or people." Salma tapped her fingers in a pattern. "But what they discovered were very much blocks and blocks of stone. Just a lot of junk...as if they were removing debris from somewhere you know...Like a mine."  
  


The Jackal's son did not change his face or reacted.  
  


She was impressed.  
  


He understood the game well, it seemed.  
  


"So, we had some of our spies apply to help with the manual labour," The Lion decided to finish the story. "And eventually we discovered that what they were mining out was a broken tomb: a tomb who built the temple of Khonsu in Heliopolis."  
  


Salma folded her arms and turned to the Lion once more. Though she could feel two pairs of eyes trained at her.  
  


"When the temple was commissioned at the beginning of the 4th Dynasty, they decided to hire builders in all regions of the kingdom. I was not born at that time, though during the build I was told of this. How it was imperative to hide the true identities of these builders to ensure the secret of the temple's formation was kept." The Lion pursed his lips. "But why hide the builder's identity when they are not the face of the building?"  
  


He paused, everyone stayed quiet.  
  


"Because the builders know where every bit of stone and metal that had been used come from." He finished. "And why they know the locations of these places are. Through maps."  
  


The Vulture pried, "Maps?" He scoffed. "Why do we need maps for?"  
  


The Hyena exhaled and she could not help but hide her grin. Sometimes things don't change when it came to these people.  
  


"These maps and journals will know every inch of the purpose of the temple." The Lion said. "But also...the sources of the gold used for the temple."  
  


The Crocodile said, "Gold?" He laughed, "We've stooped this low to want gold?"  
  


"No," The Lion's son spoke, defending his father. "The gold is worth more to us than anything."  
  


The Lion’s son. Now he was an enigma large than his father in her eyes. He had been with the Lion for over four millennia, aiding his father in the quest to build a secret empire underneath civilisation. There was no record of his achievements in the Order other than his public past before his ‘death’.  
  


Salma knew, with the young face and haunting eyes: there was more to the man. When she first worked with him, he was quiet and straightforward. There was not ridiculous boasting, only simple orders from the man beside the Lion.  
  


But speaking out of turn during a meeting was exceedingly rare. With that: Salma realised the seriousness of what he stated.  
  


"The gold used for the temple," She muttered. "The same gold used..."  
  


“For the Tablet.”  
  


When she looked up to the Jackal – he grinned.  
  


' _That son of a bitch_ ,' She thought. ' _Is this what he's been doing during his time in Europe?_ '  
  


"We find the location of Mr Carter. If the maps are correct, and not forged by Mr Carter: it means we are able to find the gold needed to create a new tablet." The Lion finalized. "One that could potentially have the similar properties needed to function much like the original."  
  


The Vulture replied, "And if it doesn't?"  
  


The Lion then snapped. Salma knew not to mess with the Lion. He was the calmest of all of them. But eventually: The Lion will snap. Because that was what big cats do.  
  


His eyes were blank as he asked the Vulture: "Do you doubt the plan, Vulture?"  
  


From the corner of her eye, she could sense the man gulping like he swallowed a lemon. "No! I..." He adjusted his tie. "I am just taking precaution. How long will this take?"  
  


"I would say a few years," The Lion's son answered. "We have to consider all steps of the operation as well as making sure the plans are given to us by Mr Fredricks."  
  


The Jackal interrupted, "I am one step ahead actually." He slid a thick folder on the table. His son opened it up and there were the plans.  
  


Plans to make an exact replica of the Tablet.  
  


Salma parted her lips. She could not believe this was happening.  
  


"Thanks to my son," The Jackal placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "He had provided us with full surveillance of the Tablet as a nightguard, in order to make sure it is still there for precaution. He has also done something some of us could not. Rowena Clarke trusts my son as well as Larry Daley." The son looked proud, something that caught her.  
  


A little bit too proud.  
  


Or perhaps she was just bitter on the turn out of her own outlook. Rowena Clarke rejected her friendship - her help. Salma wondered why she was still hurt by it and scolded herself. The girl was weak, hardly worth the title of a guardian.  
  


Even the thought of that moment when she said those words: stung her.  
  


Salma hardened her gaze at the Jackal before they returned to the screen.  
  


Three faces appeared.  
  


Ahkmenrah, Larry Daley and Rowena Clarke (who was going as Rowen Bates). Two of the photos were from a year ago. The two lovebirds thought they were safe to roam New York.  
  


Even if she lived in Washington: Salma was the Scarab. She had eyes in every city and village in the North American continent. And she knows where she was right now. In Europe, back in London. Away from the Tablet. The only luck they had on their side.  
  


Their meeting continued, going through their individual plans until every question was answered.  
  


And then another tragic was struck as the Lions turned to her. "Scarab, it is time to return to your place."  
  


She gritted her teeth and she coolly spoke, "And pray tell me as to why I must move from my own responsibility."  
  


"Not moved, just returned." The Jackal interjected.  
  


The Lion gave the Jackal a look and turned back to her. "He knows _Project Tau_ more than you, Scarab." He justified. "You will return his position back as of now. You will watch over Europe and Rowena Clarke."  
  


The meeting adjourned and she stood up with the others. It was protocol for them to do so, to know that they were equals even if Salma knew they were not. The Lion was the head, and the Jackal was another key player. The Hyena, Vulture and Crocodile were just there to make sure their numbers were strong and for an order.  
  


But the three of them held the key parts. And she alone held something more.  
  


The key to the end.  
  


They had left the meeting, parting their ways to return to their places in the outside world. Anything spoken in the room was not to be mentioned outside. It was why she was curious, and irritated, by how the Jackal followed her out of the building.  
  


"No hard feelings, Salma." The Jackal said as he approached her from behind.  
  


She rose her chin high and glanced at him, their heads at each other's heights. "Why do you pretend, Ian?" Salma eyed his son standing a few feet away. "Don't you have a son to go back to? And a wife?"  
  


The mention of his wife made Ian shakily draw a breath. She hit a nerve and that was her victory.  
  


He gritted back, "At least I'm proud to call one of mine my own."  
  


Subconsciously rubbing the metallic object around her left hand, Salma said. "Because I understand the code of what the Lion has given to every leader." Her eyes sharpened at him.  
  


He answered, “ ** _Duty before blood._** ”  
  


They knew the code off by heart in Ancient Egyptian. An oath they were brought up even before their initiation.  
  


Salma continued, "And I even if they're my children, they are not ready to take the podium just yet."  
  


Ian shook his head and chuckled. "Oh, Salma...Salma. You may think your immortality allows you full immunity in this war." He looked at her. "But you forget. Immortality is power...and power is destructive. It is chaos."  
  


Salma glared at him. She did not need a lecture from him now. And she did, she would choose someone else and not the man in front of her.  
  


"At some point, you will have to consider your family," Ian spoke. "And what side they will take. No matter how they are affected: they will discover who you truly are unless you bring them in."  
  


The Jackal was like this. Salma knew he was not lying despite his toying - his games. It's why he's the most dangerous in her ideals. However, that does not stop her from choosing her own way to toy with him.  
  


With a sweet tone, she spoke. "And how would you know?" She asked. "You say that I must decide the consequences I face. When _your_ wife left you and never came back. No news of her dead body or her presence that she's alive somewhere – with a better man."  
  


He stayed silent.  
  


“Or perhaps she is waiting.” She suggested. “Either way, dead or not: she is a liability.”  
  


The Jackal adjusted his jacket. "We all know she was a traitor, Salma." He spoke. "Now if you will excuse us. Good evening."  
  


Salma stood on the curb, folding her arms as she watched Ian Winterson grab his son and walk away. She looked back at her hand, eyeing the wedding ring perched on her finger and tried to push away the thoughts that wanted to fill her head.  
  


Instead, she remembered what was left. Even if she had been pushed aside, there were other ways to aid their cause in her own way.  
  


The plan was in motion.  
  


It was time for the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of that twist? ;)
> 
> [Edited 11/2020]: This is the last part to be edited as of now. Parts 1 and 2 are now proof-read and edited. Parts 3 and 4 will be tackled after the whole story is finished.


	35. Interlude: A Tale of Two Brothers [Part 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude: As the story continues, we go back in time. 
> 
> Over four thousand years ago, the Fourth Dynasty of Ancient Egypt bore the greatest kings civilisation needed. But before they were kings, you forget that they were once human and that they all had a childhood. In this case for Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah: the sons of Merenkahre, their childhood bond would be paid by the external forces against them.
> 
> For their brotherly love may give hope to all of Kemet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The following facts used in this chapter have been researched. Some information has been altered to fit the purposes of the story. Ancient Egyptian may also be factually correct-ish. Considering that we Ancient Egyptian evolved from the Old Kingdom and into the Ptolemy Dynasties, it's sad to say we won't know the exact translation of all words and such so I've blended it to make it work.
> 
> Dictionary for Keywords:
> 
> Kemet - What the Ancient Egyptians called their country as to what we now know as Egypt.
> 
> Iteru - What the Ancient Egyptians called the River Nile.
> 
> Mafkat - The Sinai
> 
> Ennead - The main nine gods/goddesses worshipped at Heliopolis
> 
> Mnat - Title for wet nurse or guardian [Taken back to the Old Kingdom]
> 
> Mena neswt - Royal Tutor [mostly introduced in 18th Dynasty]
> 
> The Hall of Truth - a place where Osiris, Anubis and Ra judge you through the 42 confessions before the heart is weighed with the feather of Ma'at.
> 
> Wadjet - The Eye of Horus
> 
> Mer Ek - My love
> 
> The Red Land - the Sahara.
> 
> Duat - The Underworld
> 
> Fields of Auru/Reeds - The Afterlife

** Ahkmenrah IX  
  
**

_**2536 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
** _

On the longest night of the year: a baby was born.  
  


Second son of the King and Queen of Kemet, Ahkmenrah The First was the blend of his mother and father's appearances. With a tuff of brown hair on his head and bright blue eyes, he wailed after he was brought into the world - small and fragile under the arms of the midwife. So loud that perhaps the whole palace could hear him. But when the midwife passed him into his mother's embrace, the baby's cries slowly turned into whimpers, somehow feeling the familiarity of safety in her arms.  
  


Shepseheret gazed down at her son, smiling tiredly as her tears dried on her cheeks.  
  


The gods have blessed her with something so precious, more than any jewel or gold in their land. And to feel the gift from the gods in her arms made her feel even more compelled to protect him, just like her firstborn. But to have two sons, both healthy and alive: she felt that she was burdened by the high expectations of the royal court.  
  


She was the Queen of Kemet: the first wife to Merenkahre and the glittering Jewel of the Nile.  
  


When she first arrived in court, her friends and peers told her that being a queen meant to hold power and to rule with poise and propriety, with confidence and good in her heart. What they never prepared her was the deep and beautiful responsibility of love and motherhood alongside it.  
  


It was why she adored Kahmunrah when he first to the world.  
  


Six years apart seemed to be a large gap in others' eyes. But for her: Shepseheret thought it was perfect. She knew it was perfect from the moment her oldest son shyly entered the room and asked her politely to see his new brother.  
  


Kahmunrah's eyes shone in wonder and awe as he looked down at his younger sibling. Shepseheret watched the two brothers interact, a mixed feeling of worry and happiness as Kahmunrah didn't speak.  
  


However, something shocked her even more.  
  


When her littlest son opened his eyes, Ahkmenrah stared at his older brother with the largest inquisitive blue eyes. It was as if the two were looking through each other's minds.  
  


Reaching out a hand to him, Kahmunrah pressed his finger over Ahkmenrah's hand - no bigger than the size of his finger itself. Her youngest son then wrapped it around Kahmunrah's finger, never leaving his eyes at Kahmunrah.  
  


Shepseheret silently cried, joyful tears as the two interacted together. She realised that Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah had something special, and it was something a mother should feel so blessed with. Her sons will protect each other, and she would assure that both of them will be protected. Their light will overcome the darkness and unknown that plagues the darkest depth of her mind.   
  


For it all began with a prophecy set to her family ever since the birth of Kahmunrah.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

_**2529 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
** _

"Where are you, Ahkmen?”  
  


They have been playing hide and seek for over an hour despite his little brother not understanding the rules of the game itself. So, with a heavy sigh, Kahmunrah wandered the public courtyard near the marketplace, dodging several people walking past them as they did their daily business.  
  


The city of Memphis during the day was a bustling hub of merchants, farmers, sellers and crafters – going to and from the city outskirts or out of the city itself. The smells of the desert sand mixed with the scent of fruit and spices filled the air as well as the sound of people shouting and conversing.  
  


As Kahmunrah turned around the corner, to what seemed like a pile of empty baskets. He called out once more asking where he was.  
  


He cupped his hands around his mouth, "Where are you, Ahk!"  
  


A tuft of dark hair popped out.  
  


"I'm here Kah!"  
  


Leaping out of the empty weaved baskets, a small figure – no older than seven – appeared in front of him. The largest grin ever on his lips.  
  


Kahmunrah facepalmed and shook his head. "Ahk." He groaned, "You're supposed to hide. Not tell me!"  
  


Vibrant blue eyes fixated on his own brown ones.  
  


Before long, a giggle left Ahkmenrah's lips, his hands shaking on how much fun he was happening. His happiness must be magic as Kahmunrah couldn't help but form a smile on his face, shaking his head as he laughed along with him. Sometimes he often wondered what went on his brother's head. How does Ahkmenrah find everything that annoys _him_ funny?  
  


However, Kahmunrah accepted what Ahkmenrah did or liked, as long as he was happy and safe. He swore as a young child that he would always make sure his brother was safe and made sure he would never be hurt – either by an enemy or by the tongue. However, words have never affected Ahkmenrah for some reason.  
  


The time when Khafre insulted his brother for being so tiny and weak almost made his blood boil. He thought his little brother would act the same too. Instead: Ahkmenrah had bested him in their lessons and made sure to practice his stances secretly.  
  


Kahmunrah had defended him, almost approaching Osaze and Mother about the quarrel. That led to Khafre being sent to extra lessons with his father and being taught how to hold his tongue. As much as he was a dear friend, Kahmunrah always made sure Khafre not to step out of line when it came to affronting his brother.  
  


Djedefre was never around, always apprenticing with either his father – Khufu – or spending the days with scribes (which seemed boring for Kahmunrah's taste).  
  


Despite being close friends with his father's advisor's son, Djedefre was, in fact, a year older than him and was a year ahead with his duties. Therefore, their times sneaking out of the palace and playing with the children in the city were slowly diminishing. Djedefre's brother, Khafre, was taking lessons with Khufu today. Which left him with Ahkmenrah.  
  


Walking up to him, he wrapped an arm over his little brother's shoulders and led him out onto the main road and began their journey back through the city.  
  


The sun beat down onto their skins as they meandered around the tall adults and carts. When Kahmunrah gazed up at the sun, which was past the highest point of the day: he realised how long they've been out.  
  


"Come on," He ushered his little brother, taking his hand instead and quickened his steps. "I'm supposed to be in a lesson with Osaze."  
  


'Supposed to' was an understatement.  
  


His lessons were always first and foremost the priority in the day. When he would be spending the first half of his day, after sunrise, to learn about the kingdom and its politics and management; Kemet's history and the dealings with their neighbours. He would then do group lessons with Khafre, Djedefre and Ahkmenrah (which his little brother began this year) about the customs of their kingdom and basic languages such as Nubian and Hun.  
  


He found the lessons to be exciting and ideal for his accession for the throne, as he knew that as the eldest: he would succeed his father as king. But despite how interwoven and in-depth Osaze's lessons were, always captivating it as a story in his ears – Kahmunrah would tend to fall asleep after a while on Nile exports and imports and the stories about his ancestor's greatest achievements.  
  


But Ahkmenrah loved it. He loved the stories and lesson Osaze had and adored the idea of the mystical land beyond their borders of the desert. Either it was the Mufkat or the area beyond the Red Land. It often scared him when he was a little boy what could lay beyond it but his brother asked Osaze many times what could possibly be out there.  
  


_"More sand, obviously."_ Khafre would say before being given a scolding look from Osaze.  
  


Kahmunrah and Djedefre would then argue back that there is probably some civilisation or kingdom passed the known territories, or just more unoccupied land for them to use.  
  


As for his little brother. Ahkmenrah hoped that there was a place that might be different than Kemet, of people that were different and yet the same as they were.  
  


That had confused Kahmunrah and perhaps everyone else in the room when his brother explained that foreign lands could possibly have the same customs and dealing as Kemet had and his mind agreed. Not that it was his brother but the possibility of something potential for them.  
  


After that lesson, Osaze made sure to give some time during the day to teach Ahkmenrah. He wasn't jealous. Sure, he was the heir, but it didn't stop making him glad that his brother was doing something he loved for that he never seemed to enjoy being with the other children around the palace.  
  


What Ahkmenrah preferred was playing with the common children out in Memphis.  
  


They continued, leading down in an emptier way towards the quieter gates to the palace. Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah paced themselves round the corner, only to find themselves stuck inside what seemed to be the stables of a home. The stench of manure lingered about, and hay littered the sides.  
  


There were several mules and horses stationed around, mostly encased around their wooden gates. He mentally cursed and told his brother that needed to come back outside and retrace their steps back to the palace.  
  


' _I swear this was the way back_ ,' He thought but was then abrupted by the growing figures in front of them.  
  


Kahmunrah then stopped in his tracks.  
  


Several boys appeared before them, at least a head taller than Kahmunrah was. If he had the moment to think, Ahkmenrah would have looked minuscule in comparison them. There were four of them, and what looked to be a bunch of wooden sticks shaped like a dagger in their hands. Their faces were scorned by malicious intent, a smile than neither showed kindness or good intent.  
  


They perhaps did not know who they were, having rarely been paraded out of the palace grounds since his little brother was born.  
  


He looked over his shoulder and tugged Ahkmenrah. He murmured to him, "When I say run, you try and call for the guards."  
  


"Kah?"  
  


His brother's eyes were wide, fear displayed on his face as he tucked himself behind Kahmunrah.  
  


With a soft pat on his shoulder, he said. "I'm here, brother." Kahmunrah glared up to the older boys and raised his head. "Put your weapon down, for I shall have to fight you."  
  


They all laughed at him, eyeing each other as the leader (he presumed) stepped forward and spoke, "With what? Your fists?" The rest snickered as the leader spat back, "You need to be taught a lesson on why you shouldn't wander alone in our territory."  
  


The leader then let out a battle cry, running straight to Kahmunrah. The first thing he did was shove Ahkmenrah out of the way, getting hit full force by the boy's fist in his face. Kahmunrah stumbled back and his vision spun about. He shook his head and snarled, and unsheathed his hidden dagger.  
  


But before he could swing it, the boy grabbed his hand and knocked it out of his hands. Kahmunrah cried in pain as a foot slammed onto his stomach, his hands clutching the area before getting on to his knees.  
  


He could hear them laugh and call him names.  
  


Weak. Pathetic. Stupid.  
  


He gritted his teeth and bared down the pain and glanced up. The leader had its wooden dagger above his head and was about to aim at his face.  
  


Then a figure jumped out of nowhere.  
  


His breath cut out as Ahkmenrah tossed himself between him and the dagger. The wood slices down his little's brother's leg and sent him screaming.  
  


Kahmunrah's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.  
  


The boy had just hurt his brother.  
  


He shouted at his brother and told him to get away and forced himself up. He could see the blood already seeping down his leg and all he could do was tell him to hide.  
  


He pulled his brother round into one of the gates and pulled the reigns of one of the horses. Kahmunrah did something stupid.  
  


He kicked the horse.  
  


The horse screeched in fear and got up to its hind legs, and clambered up to its full height. In full force, the horse kicked the approaching boy away and sent him flying towards the pile of hay. The next one was slammed right onto the wooden gate, their eyes rolling back as the was knocked out unconscious.  
  


As for the last one, Kahmunrah at his last strength swung his legs and kicked the boy right where the sun did not shine. That sent him falling to the ground faster than any chariot he had seen. When all four of them were either too much in pain or unconscious, he stood around to take a moment's breath.  
  


"Kah!"  
  


Kahmunrah turned and widened his eyes and ran up to his brother that had hidden behind one of the mules. The mule grunted back at him before he slowly approached the animal with assurance.  
  


Somehow, the mule understood that he wouldn't harm who was behind it so it moved slightly away to revealed his brother. He rushed to his side and encased him with his arms, looking at him in the eye. Kahmunrah whispered, "I'm here, Ahk. I'm here..."  
  


Tears were streaming down his eyes as he spoke, "I was so scared, Kah!"  
  


He shook his head and said in a cry, "What were you doing, Ahk?! You were so brave but so reckless!”  
  


Glancing up to his brother, Ahkmenrah's face was edged in confusion. "But I saved you?"  
  


Kahmunrah nodded and wiped the tears off his brother's cheeks. He answered, "And you did. But you're my little brother, Ahk; I should be the one protecting you, Not me!"  
  


"But you're going to be King! And kings must be protected and guarded." Ahkmenrah spoke, and a warmth soared in his chest.  
  


Kahmunrah shook his head and looked down to his brother. It was a long cut, though it didn't seem too deep. He needed to take his brother back to the palace. Oh gods, what would they say when they see Ahkmenrah bleeding in his hands?  
  


Oh _Ra_ … He was so dead.  
  


However, it would not help to panic. Kahmunrah replied to his brother's response: "And you are also a prince and my brother.” He stated, “And as the oldest _and_ your king, I must protect my subjects as well."  
  


Ahkmenrah nodded, rubbing his tears away with a large sniff.  
  


There was the sound of jogging steps he looked behind his back and saw the familiar uniform. "It seems they found us," Kahmunrah muttered.  
  


Entering the stables was Kafele - the Captain of the Guard. Kahmunrah gulped and a dark pit dropped into his stomach. His presence meant it was urgent...which meant they've been searching for them for hours.  
  


"My princes."  
  


Kafele hadn't seen Ahkmenrah yet, since he stood in front of him, as he spoke. "We heard from a vendor that he heard a child scream. And when I heard from my men that you both left I assumed the worse it was Prince Ahkmenrah. Are you both well?"  
  


"Ahkmenrah...he's." He slumped his head down and stepped aside.  
  


There were audible sharp gasps and he was quickly pushed aside by Kafele. The captain picked his brother up, cradling him on his chest as Kahmunrah spotted the rest grabbing the unconscious boys in the stable.  
  


The man who appeared to own it must have notice and paled to find royal guards and both of the princes. Kafele reassured the stablemaster that there had been no damage to their property or horses.  
  


' _The man didn't need to know I kicked one of his..._ ' Kahmunrah thought.  
  


"Come. We must return to the palace." He glanced down at him and gave him a stern gaze. "And you, my prince. Osaze has been searching for you. And so is Fukayna, Prince Ahkmenrah."  
  


Kahmunrah's heart skipped a beat.  
  


He was indeed dead - and it was all his fault.  
  


They returned to the palace in the northern gate at a fast pace, getting on one of the guard's horses with them and galloping towards their destination. When they arrived at the entrance of the palace, Kahmunrah's heart dipped slightly. Neither their father nor mother came to wonder if they were back. He only assured himself they were busy with some important meetings with the council.  
  


However, it didn't stop a familiar figure run down the steps. Her white dress billowing behind her as she held it up from tripping.  
  


Fukayna's eyes found him and they were as wide as the paintings drawn over the walls.  
  


This was much worse.  
  


"My princes! Oh Ahkmenrah, what happened?" Their Mnat shrieked.  
  


Hoisted down from the horse, the guard bowed to him before Kahmunrah's face was squished between two slim hands. Fukayna studied his face, trying to find any mark. She could probably hear his heart thumping when she noticed the bruises and cuts in his shoulders.  
  


If she saw the large bruises forming on his stomach.  
  


His little brother on the other hand had some linen wrapped around his leg, where red stains began to already form. Guilt still began to build up in his throat as their Mnat pulled him into an embrace. Kahmunrah's breath slowed down a bit and felt comforted by her presence. Fukayna was a very protective woman, especially to him and Ahkmenrah.  
  


"Some beggars." Kafele began and nudged his chin over to Kahmunrah. "Almost got them hadn't Prince Ahkmen saved his brother."  
  


When he stepped back, Kahmunrah found eyes staring at him. He murmured, "...My brother stepped in front of me."  
  


"Is this true?" She asked while Kafele settled his little brother down and had him leaning against the captain's side.  
  


Ahkmenrah nodded his head shyly.  
  


The Mnat knelt and cupped her hand over Ahkmenrah's cheek. She whispered with a smile, "You, my prince...are going to be something special when you're older."  
  


Kahmunrah could not help but smile at the interaction.  
  


Fukayna was the best mnat they ever had. She began working for the royal family ever since Ahkmenrah was born, and always made sure they were taken care of at the best standard. She also taught some things that Osaze didn't offer, like mannerism and mythology. Fukayna, like Osaze, was a natural storyteller and always kept him and Ahkenrah on their seats.  
  


Speaking of the royal tutor, his smile disappeared when he saw him striding towards them. The Mena neswt descended the steps and stood in front of the palace. Kafele stiffened his position and held Ahkmenrah. With a command from their captain, the guards dispersed back to their positions as Fukayna walked over to Osaze.  
  


Kahmunrah was _so_ dead.  
  


"Fukayna; my princes. Where have you been?" He calmly asked them, casting his eyes over to the figures in front.  
  


His mouth opened to finally confess but was stopped by a cry.  
  


"It was my fault, Osaze!” He cried. “I asked Kahmun to play and I wanted him to show me the play area he and Djed and Khafre go to!" Ahkmenrah hobbled up to their tutor, tears beginning to form once more.  
  


Glancing down, Osaze's eyes flickered in a moment of shock.  
  


Kahmunrah internally winced at every second that was passing. He knew what was coming and he was not going to enjoy it one bit.  
  


Fukayna amazingly noticed his nerves and ushered them, "I think it's best to discuss this with the Queen." She turned to the Mena Neswt and directed: "Osaze, escort Prince Kahmunrah to her highness."  
  


' _Or maybe not_ ,' Kahmunrah gulped and caught staring over to Osaze's disapproving expression.  
  


With the royal tutor gesturing for him to follow. With a sigh, he then hurried up the steps and hidden the grunts of his stomach. Glancing over his shoulder, he found his little brother being carried by several servants up the steps after being gestured by their Mnat.  
  


"Come on, my prince. Let's head to the healer." He heard Fukayna say to Ahkmenrah. "Kafele, I'm sure you'll sort out the guards that allowed them to sneak out."  
  


There was an exchange of words, some which Kahmunrah wasn't sure off. Though before he could see them leave, he already entered the palace and straight towards his mother's chambers.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She was having one of her busiest days. Mostly it was due to the festival which was coming in a fortnight, and preparations were being planned as she spoke through the meeting.  
  


Whilst her husband was busy sorting trade agreements and issues of their kingdom, she was appointed to overseeing the palace as well as the Wag festival. A festival dedicated to the death of Osiris and honouring the souls of the deceased on their journey to the afterlife.  
  


Luckily, she had many advisors and handmaidens to aid her during the day, making sure she would eat and drink and take a breather. She was eager to spend the midday meal with her sons, knowing how grumpy they sometimes were after Osaze's lessons, and had her advisors continue without her. Shepseheret knew it best to give some time to her sons, even if they were growing up.  
  


Therefore: hearing that one of her sons were at the healer's wing almost made her drop her goblet.  
  


Faster than any flying falcon or ship, Shepseheret sped toward the direction and found herself looking at Ahkmenrah: a cut running down his leg. She had cried over to her son, asking what happened. Where did he go and who had done it?  
  


Bless the child was so intent to tell her everything: Ahkmenrah burst into tears. He admitted to asking his older brother to sneak out of the palace and wanted to place. And then the mention of delinquents made her inhale her anger.  
  


How dare they hurt her children.  
  


However, despite being angry with the boys that attacked her sons: Shepseheret couldn't help but ventilate her anger at their actions. It was why she allowed Peseshet to tend to her child and search for eldest. Osaze had escorted her son to her and allowed them the room to speak.  
  


Hence why she was pacing now back and forth across her chambers with her son standing in front of her. When Kahmunrah finished explaining his story, she froze in her path.  
  


"What!"  
  


She saw her son physically wince.  
  


"It was an accident, mother! We wanted to explore..." Kahmunrah tried to reason with her.  
  


"Yes, and you forget that you and your brother are the royal princes of this country." She scolded him. "You must understand that those who oppose us may seek us gone."  
  


She saw the horror-stricken face her son wore, and she quickly regretted scaring him.  
  


Kahmunrah shuffled his feet, as he replied coolly. "I am turning thirteen, mother.” He said. “I am old enough to be able to protect Ahkmen."  
  


She replied, "And you return and I come to your brother being tended by the healers!" Her voice got louder as she spoke. "What if it was both of you?"  
  


Her eyes watered slightly. She could never lose her sons. They were her prize and precious things she would ever have. Years after Kahmunrah was born, she and Merenkahre kept trying again and again to have another child. But after several miscarriages, Shepseheret was afraid she would never have another child. Until miracle had struck in the form of her youngest child.  
  


She admitted to herself and Merenkahre that two was enough and she would never be able to bore more children. Perhaps she was too harsh.  
  


Especially when she looked at her son, his head lowered down and small sniffs came from him.  
  


Kahmunrah whispered, "I'm sorry, mama..."  
  


Her heart cracked a little and Shepseheret closed into her son and placed her hand over his shoulder. She noticed that his hand wandered down to his stomach and she carefully pressed a hand to it. Hearing a sound from him, she suppressed a gasp.  
  


"Look at me, Kahmun." She softly spoke.  
  


Brown eyes stared towards her. So unlike her younger son's. It almost irked her to ask how different they were sometimes even by some appearances.  
  


"...I'm not angry with you, Kahmun," Shepseheret revealed. "But what you both did was risk your lives. You could have asked to bring a guard with you at least. You must understand that you are more precious to me than any gemstone in Kemet, alright?"  
  


Nodding back, she couldn't help but bring him once more into a tender embrace.  
  


"I know, mother," Kahmunrah whispered over her shoulder. "I love you very much."  
  


She knew Kahmunrah was still upset from what occurred today, so she ushered him to go and meet his brother at the healer's wing with her. The two's faces already lit up when they saw each other, to which Peseshet scolded Kahmunrah for poking his finger on the stitching. That made her quirk her lips and mentally shake her head.  
  


These were her sons, and indeed it was hard to keep them apart.  
  


Once the boys were tended, she decided to have Fukayna attend to them until the evening meal. Her husband was gone for the whole afternoon as well which meant he would have to find out about the news later tonight.  
  


The evening meal passed by and she made sure to wish her sons a good sleep. They were wondering where their father had been, and she promised them that he would come by tomorrow to see them before his duties. She was glad that they understood how much Merenkahre did as king, though she felt sorry for them either way. They would never be able to spend as much time with their father as common people did.  
  


She stopped by at Merenkahre's study before she retired to bed, allowing the guards in front of the doors to open it for her. After thanking them, she swept into the room to find her husband sat behind his desk.  
  


Merenkahre was a few years older than her, though it did not stop their love from blooming the moment they met thirteen years ago.  
  


She was a young handmaiden serving the dowager queen: Hetepheres the First when she laid her eyes to the pharaoh. Soon their love blossomed secretly around the palace grounds until he professed his love to her in the gardens. During the most beautiful sunset she has watched in her life. Thirteen years later, Shepseheret still felt her heart fluttering at his presence. He was her other half, and she would love him beyond the mortal life.  
  


She greeted him with a kiss before he returned to writing. Shepseheret poured herself a glass and wandered the study.  
  


"What happened?" He asked her.  
  


Shepseheret answered nonchalantly, "Your sons had an adventure today."  
  


That didn't faze him. "Oh? What happened?" He asked.  
  


"I was informed by Osaze and your Head of Guard that our eldest snuck out of his lessons to play with his brother," She told him.  
  


When she turned, she found Merenkahre furrowing his eyebrows at her. "That doesn't seem different-"  
  


"-Out of the palace grounds."  
  


His eyebrows raised in surprised. He also didn't expect their sons sneaking out of the grounds. In fact, they were well behaved indeed. "Then we must increase security." Her husband said.  
  


Shepseheret walked over to him and loudly placed the cup down. "That is not the point I am making, Merenkahre!" She exasperated. "Your son threw himself to save his brother."  
  


He glared at her, annoyed to be interrupted by her. Merenkahre spoke, "Of course, he is the eldest. He is supposed to protect his little brother."  
  


"Not Kahmun, Meren." Shepseheret's features softened.  
  


"Oh."  
  


He paused and stared at her, rather astonished as the idea seeped into his mind. His face had the mask of pondering, and he put away his papers and gestured for her to sit by side.  
  


"He has always been a special child, Shepse." He told her, holding a similar cup on his hand. "Khufu told me a few nights ago he was able to listen in to the meeting between the Huns and understood rather well."  
  


Shepseheret in turn was surprised. Ahkmenrah was only seven years old and his academics has stretched to what was equivalent to his brother's ability. But for him to grow up to already talk as an advisor and representative to the monarchy: is that his fate?  
  


She shook her head. ' _No, he is too young. He hasn't even begun training yet_.'  
  


"He would be a good negotiator once he begins his training. What is wrong with sacrifice?" Merenkahre asked her and she huffed. "He was brave. These are good qualities for a soldier and a general. He and Khamunrah would thrive when his brother ascends the throne." He tried to persuade her.  
  


However, the idea of soldier and general referred her back to the night of Kahmunrah's birth.  
  


The prophecy between her sons and the notion of something darker coming.  
  


How will she protect them?  
  


"But what if it happens?" She muttered, "His future?"  
  


Blinking, Merenkahre titled his head and questioned: "You believe what the Oracle says?"  
  


She didn't respond, only to sip her wine and look to the side. After a moment, she felt his hand tilt her chin back and she sighed against the palm of his hand.  
  


"You must not think the prophecy is set in stone, my love." He assured her. “Sometimes the prophecy changes.”  
  


She placed her drink down and held his hand over hers. "Of course I don't. But I am...afraid." Shepseheret admitted. "I love them too much to lose them. But I'm afraid that what your father had done. Will it tie them to _it_?"  
  


The mention of the prophecy reminded the Queen how fragile her life would become. She never expected, when marrying the love of her life, that the duties of the Pharaoh would tie her to what they thought was an honourable prospect. The gift of immortality.  
  


However, when she thought it would keep her family together changed the moment the prophecy was given. Slowly, Shepseheret noticed that it might affect her family in the worse ways she could imagine.  
  


They will be together, but at what cost?  
  


His eyes looked over to her and he appeared to process the question she asked.  
  


"I do not know." Merenkahre professed. "Perhaps the Ennead will be merciful for once and change the course of their lives.”  
  


She silently hoped and prayed once more to the gods that he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would be posting this a little later, but I decided to treat you guys with part one of the Interlude. So basically, this is the backstory that will closely help with the lore in Parts 3 and 4. 
> 
> Just a key re-cap, Kahmunrah here and the Kahmunrah that was in the second movie are NOT the same. Just to mention again since all their names all kinda merge together. Khafre and Kahmunrah sound similar and it does confuse me as well.


	36. Interlude: A Tale of Two Brothers [Part 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude: The second part of A Tale of Two Brothers, several years past and both Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah have come of age. As their roles as the princes of Kemet come to show: they don't expect having such contrasting lives. With one fighting in the desert and the other ruling on a throne: their lives change by one promise from the gods.
> 
> And that involved protecting a certain tablet to those that want to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The following facts used in this chapter have been researched. Some information has been altered to fit the purposes of the story. Ancient Egyptian may also be factually correct-ish. Considering that we Ancient Egyptian evolved from the Old Kingdom and into the Ptolemy Dynasties, it's sad to say we won't know the exact translation of all words and such so I've blended it to make it work.
> 
> Dictionary for Keywords:
> 
> Kemet - What the Ancient Egyptians called their country as to what we now know as Egypt.
> 
> Iteru - What the Ancient Egyptians called the River Nile.
> 
> Mafkat - The Sinai
> 
> Ennead - The main nine gods/goddesses worshipped at Heliopolis
> 
> Mnat - Title for wet nurse or guardian [Taken back to the Old Kingdom]
> 
> Mena neswt - Royal Tutor [mostly introduced in 18th Dynasty]
> 
> The Hall of Truth - a place where Osiris, Anubis and Ra judge you through the 42 confessions before the heart is weighed with the feather of Ma'at.
> 
> Wadjet - The Eye of Horus
> 
> Mer Ek - My love
> 
> The Red Land - the Sahara.
> 
> Duat - The Underworld
> 
> Fields of Auru/Reeds - The Afterlife

** Ahkmenrah X  
  
**

**_2520 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
_ **

"On your left, brother."  
  


Ahkmenrah skidded around, weaving away from the metal blade coming at his side.  
  


He gritted his teeth as a foot jammed right into his side and sent him stumbling back.  
  


Hitting the ground with a thud, he rolled away and got back up.  
  


His skin was burning under the scorching sun, stinging by the friction of the sand and rock beneath his feet. His leather sandals were rubbing against his soles, making them blister. His hair was a tangled mane of curls. Bruises and cuts littered his entire body, mixed with sweat and dirt on his skin. Ahkmenrah’s body was demanding for him to stop; and yet his mind kept going.  
  


It didn't stop him from continuing to lash out against his brother.  
  


Kahmunrah was a force to behold. Despite being six years older and already in his early twenties, Ahkmenrah’s brother was nothing compared to the other soldiers and guards.  
  


Quick and yet controlled, calculating and timed: his swings never missed the spot he intended. Kahmunrah would go on and on for hours, never beating a sweat until it had passed the hour mark. And every duel Ahkmenrah had with him, he would be bested in just half that time.  
  


Kahmunrah blocked another swing of Ahkmenrah’s sword and spoke, "You're getting better, Ahk. But-"  
  


"Argh!"  
  


Ahkmenrah felt the blunt end of the sword hit his ribs and he took his free hand and clutched the spot. "Fuck!" He swore.  
  


Before he could even move, another swing was aimed at him. Ahkmenrah blocked it hastily, wobbling at the force he took.  
  


"You need to focus even better," Kahmunrah instructed, a stern eye aimed at him. "What if the enemy is faster and stronger than you? You must fight dirty sometimes. Even if lacks honour. Argh-"  
  


It was his brother to curse as his sword knocked him down.  
  


Kahmunrah clutched his arm and hissed. His language can be rather colourful sometimes in Ahkmenrah's opinion.  
  


"Like that?" Ahkmenrah spoke with an innocent tone.  
  


"Fuck!" Kahmunrah glared to him. "That wasn't the point."  
  


Ahkmenrah rolled his eyes and retorted. "Obviously, the point was for you to keep eyeing Hetepheres."  
  


Kahmunrah's face turned a shade of red. Though it might just be because they had been sparring for almost two hours. Ahkmenrah knew how to get his brother on his toes.  
  


With a grin, Ahkmenrah held his hand out to his brother and he obliged.  
  


After pulling his brother up to his feet, Kahmunrah had a small smile and shook his head. "I let you win that time, brother."  
  


"You mean like all the time." Ahkmenrah muttered and wiped the sweat off his brow, panting heavily.  
  


Giving his brother an unimpressed look, Kahmunrah replied. "Sarcasm won't be good for you as a general Ahk." He added, "Or even a scholar."  
  


Ahkmenrah's mood deflated slightly, commenting back: "Oh you know father won't allow me to become a scholar, Kah.” He made a soured expression. “It won't be befitting for a prince and brother of the King of Egypt."  
  


He was speaking the truth. Even though he hadn't discussed with their father what duties he was planning to apply for, Ahkmenrah already had in his mind what reaction would he expect after he expressed his love for learning. His father was the king, and the image his sons posed greatly affected their whole family.  
  


If he wished to become a scholar, he would spend days on days in the libraries and temples - constantly learning much like Djedefre. His father on the other hand wanted him to lead as a symbol for their army - a wish that he only accepted because he was fascinated in the far lands of Kemet.  
  


Kahmunrah sheathed his sword and took a breath. "Well, once I am king: you may wish to become either of them." He tried to cheer him up. "Perhaps both. A general both in mind and body."  
  


He paused and raised an eyebrow at his brother. Ahkmenrah inquired, "So like you but _without_ your ego?"  
  


That earned him a punch in the arm, sending him spluttering out a laugh.  
  


Kahmunrah protested, "Hey! I am not like Khafre thank you very much." He sniffed. "At least I don't go running around telling people I bested these many slaves during the morning drill. I mean-oh!... H-Hello."  
  


His brother froze when he bumped into someone as they made their way out of the yard. Ahkmenrah was at his side and realised who it had been.  
  


Dressed in a plain white dress, Hetepheres carried a basket which held some blankets which some fell onto the floor. His brother realised after a moment and quickly assisted her to put them back.  
  


Her cheeks were pink, reflecting the same colour at Kahmunrah's.  
  


Oh, this is going to be a sight to behold.  
  


"My princes!" She squeaked and apologised. "I'm sorry, I was just going-"  
  


Kahmunrah blinked and muttered something he couldn't understand. However, he never looked away from her.  
  


The awkwardness was growing too quickly, making Ahkmenrah want to seriously bolt out of the room. So he coughed up which his brother blinked back from his trance.  
  


"It's not good to wander on your own despite being palace grounds." Ahkmenrah cut the silence and eyed his brother. "Why don't you escort Hetepheres back to her quarters, brother."  
  


Hetepheres smiled and glanced away as Kahmunrah nodded and spoke, "O-of course."  
  


As the two began to head out to the opposite direction (which was away from the royal wing), Ahkmenrah was happy to see his brother finally overtake his shyness about the woman at hand. He knew that his brother began having feelings for Hetepheres ever since she arrived at Memphis, having been brought up near to the Nile Delta.  
  


All he could hope for is that Kahmunrah wouldn't mess it up.  
  


Before he left the yard, his older brother muttered to his side with a growl. "You are going to get beaten later."  
  


Ahkmenrah flashed him a grin and wink and answered. "If you catch me first."  
  


His brother glared before carrying the basket Hetepheres had in her arms. Ahkmenrah kept grinning as they left the training grounds, but quickly winced. As much as he enjoyed toying with his brother, he still grumbled after their duel whilst he returned to his quarters.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2519 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
_ **

It was happening too soon.  
  


One day, his father left to go on an expedition up the Iteru for some peace negotiations with the Nubians.  
  


The next: word was sent to the palace in Memphis that something had happened to him.  
  


Ahkmenrah had been with Osaze that day, finishing his work after helping him aid the younger children in the palace of lessons. It was something he had done nowadays after turning seventeen, now being old enough to do royal duties and ascend as a soldier for the army.  
  


Though the prospect of leaving for the Mafkat was wearing thinner. He saw the figures of the returned entourage at the front gates and saw both his mother, Kahmunrah and Khufu hurrying down to the throne room. Osaze dismissed him with his work and followed him towards the direction.  
  


When he entered, there was a thick eery atmosphere.  
  


He thought of the worse.  
  


"What happened?" Ahkmenrah asked, swiftly heading towards his mother that was sobbing over his brother's shoulder. Each step he took, he could his heart slamming against his chest – louder than his sandals hitting the marble floor.  
  


Kafele and Khufu shared a look, who appeared to silently choose from one another, on who would reveal the truth.  
  


Instead, it was Fukayna that wore the truth in her reaction. Tears over her cheeks, as she lowered her head down. But when he faced her, she looked up to him with one thing on her expression.  
  


"I'm sorry, Ahkmenrah." She whispered. “King Merenkahre…your father.”  
  


She choked up a sob, making his step closer towards her.  
  


“He’s dead.”  
  


When Ahkmenrah heard those two words spill out and invade his ears, he felt his whole body thrown back in the impact.  
  


His father was dead.  
  


Ahkmenrah couldn't breathe. He couldn't. It felt as if the earth was shaking beneath his feet, wanting to collapse underneath and swallow him whole. He could feel the heat rising, his eyes watering as the realisation hit him like a wave.  
  


He would never be able to see his father again. The father that had tried his best to be there with him. Who, despite his flaws: had always understood the weight which he held being the second child. His father had confessed to Ahkmenrah that Merenkahre was the second child as well after his older brother passed before his time. Merenkahre knew what it felt when he had to take his brother's place as king.  
  


They understood what it was like to be the spare.  
  


And now he was gone.  
  


"All hail the new King of Kemet," Kafele announced, giving a respected gaze at his brother.  
  


The shock and realisation were evident in his brother’s eyes. Everyone’s gazes were now at the new pharaoh.  
  


"King Kahmunrah."  
  


Kahmunrah's eyes had a haze, red-rimmed from crying at yet he maintained composed. He didn’t react, but quickly averted his focus to their mother.  
  


"Mother? Do you want me to ask for Fukanya or Khufu?" He asked whilst Ahkmenrah got closer to them.  
  


Their mother sniffed back and broke away from Kahmunrah. "No! I mean...I am alright." She grabbed Ahkmenrah’s hand and grabbed the other one from Kahmunrah. She whispered to them. "My sons. You are all that I have left… Please do not leave me."  
  


He didn’t say anything.  
  


"Of course not, mother. We are here for you." Kahmunrah promised and Ahkmenrah slowly nodded.  
  


What he couldn't bear to tell them that he had been horrified because he had witnessed the same thing many months ago.  
  


Ahkmenrah had been getting visions. He wasn't sure as to why he got them, but they were beginning to get close to the truth. At first, it took a while to accept the visions, almost annoying due to his sleep. He thought it was just his imagination, making future predictions of his family and the future of his life.  
  


His visions began a couple of years ago, just little things such as meeting a new person in the palace grounds or something happening to him that could cause him harm. A week later after receiving a vision of burning his arm on his night walks, he had done the exact thing.  
  


However: the death of his father already told his suspicions.  
  


Ahkmenrah knew the only way was to consult the priests in Thebes. He had seen himself consult to them in a recent vision, one that could give him answers.  
  


Therefore, on the following evening the news of Merenkahre’s death occurred: Ahkmenrah decided to sneak into the night down the Iteru.  
  


However, he was not as subtle as he thought himself to be.  
  


Even after seventeen years living in the palace, and learning the timings of the palace gurads: his brother somehow found him preparing to the climb over the garden walls that led to the banks of the river.  
  


“What are doing?”  
  


Ahkmenrah froze, and then turned his face towards his confused brother. He simply replied, “Leaving.”  
  


Kahmunrah held a disappointed expression, frowning and also betrayed. "You cannot leave, Ahkmen." He said, "Mother is hurting and now you think you must go south because of what? A Vision?"  
  


He winced. He shouldn't have told his brother about it.  
  


"I just need to go alright." Ahkmenrah exasperated. "I will be back before the procession to the pyramid. I promise you."  
  


His brother gave him a stern nod before he let out a breath. "Alright. But be with us when the coronation happens?"  
  


Ahkmenrah stared at his brother for a moment. He was hesitant to approach him for a second – unsure whether or not Kahmunrah meant it. Though once he looked at his eyes, he knew the honesty. His brother knew how much it meant to him.  
  


They hugged tightly as Ahkmenrah spoke, "I will. I promise you, brother." He smiled at him "You can do this. You were born to be king."  
  


Kahmunrah let a small smile on his lips, before patting his shoulder. Afterwards, he watched Ahkmenrah hop over the wall and find the prepared ship barking for the city.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

It was exactly nineteen days to which he returned to Memphis.  
  


However, Ahkmenrah didn't return the same as he was before.  
  


He ignored all courtesy and propriety and stormed into the throne room. Surprisingly, his mother, brother, Hetepheres, Osaze and Khufu were in there. Some held surprise looks whereas others wore disapproval and confusion in them. Ahkmenrah didn't care, only storming up to his brother and gave the most scrutinising glare to her.  
  


Ahkmenrah snarled, "Why didn't you tell us we were tied to a god, Mother?"  
  


Her face paled and she let out a gasp.  
  


So, it was true.  
  


Kahmunrah was far from the truth and creased his brows. "What are you talking about, Ahkmenrah?" He asked, trying to cool his temper.  
  


It didn't help unfortunately as he answered: "Our father is a liar."  
  


More gasps were heard.  
  


Khufu appeared at his vision, a dark look in his eye. "Hold your tongue to your king, boy."  
  


"I am not a boy." Ahkmenrah gritted his teeth. "I am seventeen years old and I demand to ask why our grandfather sought to deal with the gods!”  
  


Silence filled the room.  
  


"...Is this true?" Hetepheres glanced over to his mother. "My Queen Mother?"  
  


Tears began to streak down her eyes, and his mother turned her head away.  
  


"Yes. But you must understand!" She pleaded and rose from her seat, holding Ahkmenrah's arms. "We only did it to keep our family alive. The Ennead chose our family!”  
  


“Family? How could I call you family if _you_ lied to me?” He snapped back. “Father lied to me! To me and Kahmun!”  
  


She didn’t comment back, unsure how to respond.  
  


Ahkmenrah scoffed and looked away. How could he even accept her for that he had lied to him and his brother?  
  


Shepseheret hurried back to Khamunrah in front of him and whispered, "Kahmunrah."  
  


His brother stayed silent, a blank look as he stared towards her. He wasn't choosing a side.  
  


He could feel her hand reaching toward him but Ahkmenrah dismissed it. Tears sprung out of his eyes, and he roughly wiped them away as he lowly spoke, "You promised to always be open and tell you anything." Ahkmenrah hissed at her. "But how can I when I can't even trust my own family."  
  


Shepseheret stared at him, never blinking an eye until he clenched his eyes and glanced away. With a shaking head, Ahkmenrah ran out of the room - slamming the door shut behind him.  
  


All Shepseheret did was take a sharp breath and her body shook. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she rubbed her arms and hugged herself. A soft sound escaped her lips and she cried in front of Ozase, Khufu, her son and daughter-in-law. She couldn't care less about how she appeared.  
  


She had broken her son's trust.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

During the late evening, Hetepheres strolled down the halls of the royal wing. The atmosphere was far from serene, but not as stifling as it was during the day.  
  


When his brother-in-law decided to burst into the throne room to reveal something rather shocking, it had shaken the whole palace – something which didn’t help. After all, it was the funeral in a few days.  
  


To hear that the royal family dealt with the gods any never assumed to mention it to any of Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah was a shock. Yes, there had been a fair share of visions and prophecies, but they never dealt with magic and death.  
  


Death was a sacred thing to their people, and it was hard to comprehend that as of now - her father-in-law was alive.  
  


Alive, but hidden. Deep within the Pyramid of Merenkahre at the west bank of the Iteru. One of the largest buildings to hold. Kahmunrah always said he would plan to build his own, and already it was under construction. In time, they would be together in the afterlife.  
  


But after the revelation: would her husband fall into the same fate?  
  


How Shepseheret could live thinking she would never see Merenkahre was horrible. She knew the consequences and lived through it. But for Hetepheres to hear the hatred coming from her son must have worsened the blow.  
  


She won't let herself think of the future. Hetepheres would vow to spend every moment of her life with the one she loved, no matter how much it pains her to imagine she would never be with him forever.  
  


As her thoughts wandered, she arrived at Ahkmenrah's chambers and slipped through the doors.  
  


He was sitting by the large windows, his feet dangling out into the gardens in front. Hetepheres slowly strolled over and sat by his side, seeing the forlorn expression. Even at seventeen, it seemed that he was so old by his time. Perhaps his soul was an old one, who had taken itself within a younger body.  
  


They sat watching moon high above quietly, never uttering a word.  
  


“I used to think I was lucky.” Ahkmenrah spoke aloud, his voice both tired and dulled. “And then I began getting visions, and then they became real.”  
  


Hetepheres turned her head to face him.  
  


Blue eyes looked to golden ones.  
  


“And then this happened.” He murmured. “Why? Why us?”  
  


Hetephere’s heart cracked as she saw him blink away a tear. She now saw the seventeen-year-old boy in front of her. Torn and confused, the youngest prince was lost. Hetepheres wanted to reach out, to let him know that he wasn’t alone.  
  


She calmly spoke, "I think you should talk to him, Ahkmen." She paused. “You and Kahmun need each other.”  
  


"Hetepheres." He said, shaking his head.  
  


The new queen sighed heavily, crossing her arms. Hetepheres answered, "I am his wife. But this is for both of you. You are stronger together, and you need that.” She tried to let her eyes wander to his but Ahkmenrah was too focused out of the window.  
  


Ahkmenrah looked away, hearing another exhale before the sound of sandals moved towards the door and hear the door close.  
  


' _That was stupid of you, Ahkmen_.' He told himself and covered clutched his knees up to his chest and leaned his head down with his arms.  
  


Then, there was another knock.  
  


He groaned, "Hetep I don't want-"  
  


"It's me."  
  


It was Kahmunrah. "May I enter?" He asked.  
  


He stayed silent, hoping he would just go away. But then out of spite, Ahkmenrah grunted. He heard his brother walk over and sit where Hetepheres had previously sat.  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced and eyed him and then sighed, "Look, I shouldn't have mentioned-"  
  


"No."  
  


His face drew a blank expression.  
  


Kahmunrah rested his hands onto the floor at his back to hold himself and continued: "I'm glad you did. But to hear that we’re forced to never be with our family is the worst thing to have ever imagine.” He paused. “No one should be alone."  
  


Ahkmenrah glanced away and stared out to the garden.  
  


His brother wondered. "And for what? To watch over Egypt because it is our right?” He questioned. “I don't think I'll be able to be away from you, mother or Heteph or my child for that matter."  
  


Guilt rose against his throat as Ahkmenrah quietly said, "I shouldn't have shouted at Mother."  
  


"She will forgive you." His brother spoke softly and asked, "But will you forgive her as well?"  
  


Their eyes met, blue against brown. Ever so opposite, like night and day; light and dark.  
  


"Of course." Ahkmenrah said.  
  


A smile crept up his brother's lips. "Quick to anger and also quick to forgive." Kahmunrah dawdled. "How are your Hun and Nubian speaking going along?"  
  


"My Greek is doing well thank you." Ahkmenrah responded, earning a roll of eyes from his brother.  
  


Kahmunrah replied, "Well, I would say the first thing is: as my right-hand man, you are to translate some of the papyrus documents."  
  


Ahkmenrah groaned and slapped his brother's arm. "That is boring!" He complained. "You have Khufu to do that. And Djedefre will be your next advisor. I'll be your general and scholar; and from time to time your translator."  
  


"I sometimes wish Osaze tutored you instead." Kahmunrah pointed out.  
  


He perked up a raised brow. "I thought you liked him?"  
  


"Yes." He said, with mirth in his eyes. "But he would have loved your mind more, brother."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2516 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
_ **

He spent the next three years away from the capital city.  
  


His life had once revolved being the prince of Kemet and the brother of the future king. But now: Ahkmenrah was his own person. Not as the sibling or the spare: but a leader. He became one of the youngest leaders since their time, having aided to defend the eastern borders of Kemet from foreign invasions. He would train until his lungs would give into the night and begin after the rising sun.  
  


However, with fighting as well as being a strategist in warfare: Ahkmenrah also grew to understand the differences between fighting the battles. Sometimes fighting didn't need a sword to cut conflict down. Instead, Ahkmenrah had reduced conflict through talking and negotiating.  
  


Villages and settlements were always vulnerable to attackers, and the best way from damaging the children's' hearts was to keep them from seeing blood and violence. He would never let them suffer to see the pain and horror of war and violence. Ahkmenrah vowed to himself, prophecy or not: that he would make sure every child would grow to live through happiness.  
  


His life with the army was a stark contrast to palace life. The soldiers, both men and women, didn't see him as a prince that couldn't be harmed. They saw him as an equal - a comrade in their eyes. The respect they gave him after he told his orders to evacuate the area from innocents being killed was swiftly done.  
  


Ahkmenrah was no longer the boy that lost his control or was naive to the life around him. He was a soldier.  
  


It was why it felt so odd to return to Memphis for once. He paused his duties after he received word from his brother that his son was born. Ahkmenrah was overjoyed and was eager to meet his new nephew.  
  


When he arrived at the palace, he was greeted by the king, queen, his mother and the new crown prince.  
  


He was still hesitant to approach his mother at first, but it never stopped them from hugging each other.  
  


Hetepheres was as beautiful as ever, with beautiful dark locks and painted eyes. She could outmatch any goddess if Ahkmenrah ever witnessed one.  
  


His brother no doubt had changed as well. Three years may be small and yet there was already some greying hairs and more lines on his forehead. Ahkmenrah could only be glad that he didn't get balding from their father.  
  


After the welcome and before the feast honoured by him, Kahmunrah and Hetepheres introduced him to their son. They placed him onto his arms and he quickly panicked for a second.  
  


Ahkmenrah didn't know how to hold a child, and they trusted him with their child. In the inside, he was panicking but Hetepheres assured him that he wouldn't hurt him.  
  


With a soft voice, he spoke. "Hello, little Ramses. I am your uncle, Ahkmen."  
  


The baby's eyes were a mixture of gold and brown, something which Ramses inherited from Hetepheres. Under the warmth of the light, it was more evident to spot the gold specks.  
  


' ** _You will always find hope in the most unexpected places_**.'  
  


That was what the voices in his told him, after constantly worrying during his journey back to Memphis. He wasn’t sure if it was right to return. Was he going to be welcomed back? Would his family hate him for choosing a path such as this? A life where he lived to see chaos and violence right in front of his eyes.  
  


"It seems you're good with children, Ahkmenrah."  
  


Looking upwards, he found his brother watching him with an odd look. Kahmunrah’s face held a tender look, almost sincere and surprised by his actions.  
  


' _Perhaps three years has been long._ ' Ahkmenrah thought.  
  


Instead of asking about why he was giving him the odd look, Ahkmenrah answered his statement, "Children are very innocent and so full of light and kindness.” He continued. “They shine like the stars."  
  


Kahmunrah let out a hum, never leaving his eyes off his son. Ramses then began to squirm in his arms and Ahkmenrah pleaded to his brother to take him. Kahmunrah was amused and picked his son off Ahkmenrah's arms and cradled him.  
  


As his brother stood, Kahmunrah changed the subject. He asked, "How are things up north-east in Mafkat?"  
  


"We managed to keep some peace with the trading across the East." Ahkmenrah spotted the bottle of wine and cup and decided to take a drink. After a drink he sighed in relief, letting the alcohol enter his system. "Most of the trouble was the lack of grain coming from the Iteru."  
  


His brother made an expression of stress and glanced away.  
  


It would seem that it was common knowledge, the fact that their kingdom was at a shortage of food. The complaints from the people were beginning to grow and it was making his brother's life much harder. Not only that: he had a child to bring up.  
  


"Yes. Khufu and I were discussing these things. I swear whenever I send Khafre to do some tidying up all I hear is more mess created." Kahmunrah shook his head. "I should have asked Djedefre to deal with the grain.”  
  


At the sound of the name, Ahkmnerah perked his eyebrows in interest. It had been a while since he’d seen the eldest son of Khufu. Before he left Memphis, the two had managed to gain a strong bond together – shared by their love of learning and teaching.  
  


Djedefre was a good friend, and almost felt like the other older brother he had despite blood. There were times which they disagreed in things, mainly on their morality and ethics but they preferred to debate topics.  
  


Unlike Khafre, who was the leech in Ahkmenrah’s presence throughout his entire life. There wasn’t a moment which the two hit each other’s heads that would eventually lead to Ahkmenrah winning a verbal battle and Khafre screaming at him. It was – unfortunately – the opposite when it came to physical duelling. Khafre was a disturbing force, besting Kahmunrah most of the time.  
  


Though was came with physical skill came without the ability to deal with politics. Khafre was easily angered whereas Djedefre was as calm.  
  


Their father – Khufu – was a balance between the two. Calm and yet prepared to argue back. But what they were all common of was their ambitious character. And it was something Ahkmenrah’s family lacked.  
  


“He's very good as an advisor you know.” Kahmunrah drawled. “And a lovely sister too..."  
  


Waggled eyebrows were directed at him.  
  


"Don't." Ahkmenrah glared back. "I know what you are asking of me." He then took another gulp of wine.  
  


"You are far from the age I married Hetepheres, brother." He stated, "You need to seek a wife. Or a husband."  
  


Ahkmenrah spat out the wine, coughing back as he heard him chuckle.  
  


"I prefer the opposite sex thank you." He pointed out placed his cup down.  
  


Kahmunrah gave him an apologetic look and said, "I am only jesting." He sighed. "But please consider it. Mother is getting worried about you. _I’m_ getting worried for you, brother.”  
  


Ahkmenrah said nothing afterwards, not wanting to share his opinion of any potential suitors. For all his life anyways, not once had he found anyone that shared the same affections for him. From time to time, Ahkmenrah had taken some lovers during his time in the army. But it had stopped after his position changed to a top role.  
  


No: love was not his agenda in this lifetime.  
  


Perhaps after everything has settled, and his family was secure he would. But right now, Ahkmenrah felt that all his love was solely for his family and the kingdom alone. He needed to keep them safe. Even if it did cost his happiness.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2514 BCE - Iunu [Heliopolis]  
  
  
_ **

"Ambush, my prince." One of the soldiers from Kahmunrah's ranks told him.  
  


He had been in Heliopolis, preparing his journey back to Mafkat. But then something struck.  
  


Ahkmenrah pushed him and asked, "And my brother?"  
  


"Presumed dead." The soldier gulped down, not wanting to have been the one to tell the news.  
  


His heart stopped.  
  


No: it shattered.  
  


His vision was coming true. And it wasn't a vision any longer - but a nightmare.  
  


A nightmare he would never wake up to.  
  


"Presumed? How?" Ahkmenrah croakily asked.  
  


"We could not retrieve his body from the Iteru due to the flow of the currents." The soldier revealed. "I am afraid he is now gone...my King."  
  


The moment they left his chambers, Ahkmenrah headed over to the desk and clenched his fists. He then screamed.  
  


Anger, anguish and sadness were filling his veins. He would never see his brother. He would never see him into the afterlife, for that he knew in the back of his mind that the visions were true.  
  


There was no room in the field of reeds for Kahmunrah the First.  
  


Suddenly his wall that he built - crumbled.  
  


A year spent after that night that he cried after knowing their family's fate. That their family will never be together. It had finally burst into a mixture of wrath.  
  


His hands slammed against the table and he punched and kicked until the desk was just a pile of scraps. Ahkmenrah could see his hands, soaked in blood as his vision stirred and he felt himself slowly descend onto the floor.  
  


He wept for the rest of the night - mourning for the loss of his only true friend and brother.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2512 BCE - Men-nefer [Memphis]  
  
_ **

He returned to the Memphis afterwards, stoic and silent as he saw only his mother standing on the steps of the palace. Ahkmenrah knew for a fact that Hetepheres was mourning, and perhaps inside with Ramses.  
  


A sudden thought hit him.  
  


Ramses would never see his father again.  
  


It took all his will not to break into a sob and fall off his horse. He couldn't break, not when he was now the king of Kemet.  
  


Ahkmenrah the First. The second son of Merenkahre the First, the soldier of the East.  
  


The kingdom now rested on his shoulders and he would do it in honour of both his father and brother. He needed to make things right. For them and for their family.  
  


He was tempted to venture to his father’s pyramid, to tell the news to him. However, Ahkmenrah knew it was forbidden to disturb the protector of the Artefact. What would happen? Kahmunrah’s body was gone.  
  


Who was the next protector of the Tablet?  
  


The first year hadn't gone as badly as he expected. Khufu was a lot of help and aided him to make decisions over the new year. Djedefre returned from Aswan after his expedition up the Iteru and was a breath of relief to his work. Being king was much more difficult than his father portrayed. There was no time to train or greet his mother or Hetepheres.  
  


Hetepheres had gone into mourning and decided to take Ramses to a secluded part of the city. He understood well enough that everything in the palace perhaps reminded her of Kahmunrah too much and something different might help her heal. Ramses was a diligent and smart child, and Ahkmenrah assured his nephew that he would return, and they would spend time together.  
  


Now it was just him and his mother, who had grown closer once more due to their loss. Ahkmenrah now understood what it was like to lose someone so dear to his heart. He often wondered how bad it was for her, to lose the one she loved as a husband and as a son.  
  


The mourning also took a toll on her health, and now she spent most of her time in her chambers.  
  


Khafre hadn't returned from his conquest at the west and he grew suspicious as to what he was planning.  
  


Their relationship was straining ever since the day they were little children, almost getting bullied and picked on the boy that would become the man that led his brother's armies. Khufu assured him that he was fine and was soon to return to bless himself as a follower to the new pharaoh.  
  


However, the time of his blessing never came.  
  


After the second year, things had drastically changed.  
  


Ahkmenrah could sense it. The tension lingering in the air and feeling in the back of his mind. Words that told him to be aware of who he trusted and who spoke his feelings too. It was why all he could discuss his sorrow either been with Osaze or Khufu. Fukayna left with Hetepheres, so there wasn't his Mnat to confess too. He prayed to the gods. The Ennead and to the rest.  
  


But the gods seemed to not hear him.  
  


A fight had broken out at the gates of the palace. Soldiers fighting guards. Against one another. It only meant one thing to him - a coup.  
  


Someone had betrayed him.  
  


Ahkmenrah helped the wounded by dragging them away, killing those that shouted his name. With his dual swords, he cut them down easily. The adrenaline pumping through. Once his side was completely eradicated, he heard a sharp inhale.  
  


Spinning around, he saw his captain of the guard slice the rebel's throat - and both he and the rebel fell.  
  


"Kafele!"  
  


Ahkmenrah cried and rushed towards him. A heavy wound was on the captain’s chest. Something that won't simply heal in time.  
  


Kafele struggled in his words "Go…m-my king! She…she is down in her wing!"  
  


With a silent prayer, Ahkmenrah ran back into the palace and headed down to the royal wing. The whole place was tarnished: with vases broken and curtains ripped. There were screams from servants as the rebels killed them at his sight. He wanted to help so badly but his mind was set to search for his mother.  
  


When he arrived at her chambers, she found her slumped on her bed. Pale as a white sheet.  
  


He gasped, "Mother-"  
  


A hand forced his head to look at her as she begged. "Ahk, you must go! Find her! Find her."  
  


What was she talking about? Who was he supposed to find?  
  


"Find who? Find who?" Ahkmenrah asked.  
  


Her voice was straining as her eyes began to lower;  
  


"The guardian...She will help us." Shepseheret spoke, "Help… our family."  
  


"I don't understand." Ahkmenrah pleaded. "You are sick."  
  


Shaking her head, his mother trailed her fingers over his hair and mouthed the last words.  
  


' _I love you, my son._ '  
  


"Someone has poisoned you." He said.  
  


"Indeed."  
  


The deep voice echoed across the room as a cold feeling trailed down Ahkmenrah's spine.  
  


He knew who that voice was.  
  


He watched his mother's eyes lose the light that always shone every day. Now it had gone out. His gently closed her eyes and pressed his lips over her forehead.  
  


_'I'm so sorry, mother._ '  
  


His hands clenched into a fist. His swords were gone, taken by the culprit who stood in behind him.  
  


When he turned around, Ahkmenrah gritted his teeth and said, "Khafre.” His name felt poison in his mouth. “You…You did this."  
  


His smug smile rested on his lips as Khafre walked towards him. He said. "Oh, definitely not me. I prefer this way-"  
  


The glimpse of metal was at his sight.  
  


But it didn't give the time for Ahkmenrah to spot it embed into his chest.  
  


Air knocked out of his lungs, Ahkmenrah stared towards the face in front of him. He saw the hatred and glee mixed within Khafre’s emotions.  
  


A psychopath.  
  


His hands tried to pull out the sword by he could himself being held up by Khafre's hands.  
  


"Still weak all this time?" Khafre asked and twisted the sword.  
  


Ahkmenrah took his last breath before all his vision turned to blackness.  
  


At the same time, Khafre was laughing on the inside as he said to himself: "Long live the king."  
  


Khafre had done it. He had done what his father had tasked him and his brother to do; destroy the line of the royal family. It had been something he wanted to do ever since. Fuelled by the neglect of love from his father and mother, ignored by his brother. Now he would be symbolised as a good son and good prince.  
  


Their followers found him wiping the blood off Ahkmenrah's sword. Poetic how naive the young kind could still be and be killed by his own weapon. Shepseheret was dead, poisoned by his brother: Djedefre, who had made it after his journey up the Iteru.  
  


"Take their bodies. We will begin removing them from the pyramid." Khafre ordered them and watched at the chamber was emptied by all their belongings. They needed to remove as much of it as possible. Everything.  
  


No one would suspect that the two powerful figures of Kemet were gone.  
  


Meanwhile, his father entered the room along with his older brother. Khafre scowled at how close the two were and quickly changed the spotlight to himself.  
  


"Father, I did what you asked." Khafre proudly spoke.  
  


Walking up to him, Khufu had a proud look in his eyes as he replied. "Well done, my son."  
  


Something in his chest swelled. His father finally saw the talent he had.  
  


"What will happen?" Djedefre asked which Khafre glared back.  
  


As they watched the bodies dragged away towards the front gates, Khufu said: "Their family will be removed from the line. The gods have given us luck today." He turned to his sons.  
  


Khafre grinned whereas his brother kept quiet.  
  


"Whilst Djedefre will rule as king of Kemet, our descendants will remember no Merenkahre of Kemet, but Khufu: son of Snefru." Khufu announced.  
  


Khafre was surprised and yet also expecting it.  
  


Djedefre said, "You wish for their existence to be gone?"  
  


"They won't be truly gone," Khufu said, looking out into the land to see chaos at its fullest. "Not when the last Heka Guardians of Ennead are walking this earth."  
  


He understood what his father meant, having been told the truth of the magic.  
  


"And what will we do?" Djedefre asked.  
  


In his hand, Khufu held a gold coin up to his eyesight. The symbol of an eye carved on each side.  
  


It hadn't burnt him. For he had discovered a way to cheat through magic.  
  


Khufu answered, "We will wait.” He paused. “For Set has given us his blessing."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_Sometime between 2512-2502 - Kher Neter [Giza]  
  
_ **

They had found her and sent her son and herself back to the palace. Where she was forced to watched Ahkmenrah and Shepseheret be paraded around and humiliated. Their corpses were sent afterwards away, to which Hetepheres never knew where they had gone.  
  


It was Khufu all along. The traitor, the underdog.  
  


She refused him, no matter how many times he kept telling her that she would marry Djedefre and continue the royal line to ‘respect the gods' wishes’. She continued to defy the old monster until her son was mentioned.  
  


They threatened to kill Ramses if she did not accept. And for that: Hetepheres had no choice but to follow the fate she was forced into.  
  


They were the harshest years. Even if she was treated like a queen and still the same respect, there was hesitance from the servants and the people around her. They were afraid to speak up and become comfortable around her. And she hated it.  
  


She hated her new husband, her new life and a new facade. No longer was she the wife of Kahmunrah but the slave of Djedefre and Khufu. It was worse when Khafre was around, who always looked at her in lust and appetite that made her gag.  
  


However, after four years, things changed.  
  


Djedefre was dead, slain by the hands of his brother. And her body...was used until a dagger was stabbed through her heart by the end.  
  


Hetepheres waited to see the Halls of Truth, a place which her parents used to describe to her as a child. Though what she found herself to be was in bed - in a room. Standing before her was the royal tutor: the Mena neswt.  
  


She breathed. "Osaze?..."  
  


The man hadn't changed at young. Still the bald head and inquisitive eyes. "Hello, my queen, it has been a while. Fours years." Osaze spoke.  
  


Hetepheres spluttered out, "But...I thought you died.” She froze. “Wait...I thought I...I died."  
  


Panic began to take over, and she felt a hand over her shoulder. She turned to him, demanding answers.  
  


"Do not worry. Your son is fine." He assured her. “You must have many questions.”  
  


At that moment, a small figure raced towards her and jumped into her arms. "Mama! You're okay!"  
  


She choked out, "Ramses! But...how?" His son nuzzled his head over her chest.  
  


There was no dagger there, other than a scar going across her body.  
  


The royal tutor answered her question. "You have been chosen by Isis, Hetepheres. As a Wadjet key."  
  


Hetepheres looked up in confusion, but only eyed the object held between Osaze's fingertips.  
  


It was a golden coin, with the Eye of Horus.  
  


"And my son?" She asked him.  
  


He replied, "Chosen by Nephthys."  
  


Her memory jogged back to the time when Kahmunrah revealed to her the truth. Of how there was such thing as the Heka Guardians, those who were chosen to protect certain prize artefacts. He had told her that he was one of them, and the other was his brother - who didn't know the truth.  
  


Now it had been herself and Ramses.  
  


There was supposed to be five in total.  
  


Hetepheres asked, "And the other? He said there was another."  
  


Osaze shook his head and answered. "I'm afraid I do not know."  
  


Another realisation caught to her and she broke into tears.  
  


"No...no, no! Kahmunrah-" She cried. "We will never be together, the three of us will be apart forever!”  
  


Her son was eyeing her in concern, but before she could continue - Osaze wiped a tear off her cheek.  
  


He trained his eyes towards her and said, "Not if you choose to do something, my queen."  
  


"Hetepheres. I am no longer the queen." She told him. "Tell me. How can we save them?"  
  


"Their bodies are now hidden away somewhere safe until the time is right. As for Kahmunrah, his body may be gone but his soul has not entered the Hall of Truth."  
  


She raised her eyebrows. "So, he's not dead?"  
  


Osaze looked away and stared out of the window of what seemed to be their safehouse.  
  


"No. The prophecy still clings on to the two brothers. The tablet must have a guardian but Ahkmenrah is the true guardian.” Osaze said. “Kahmunrah on the other hand...he will have an important part to save humanity."  
  


Hetepheres refrained from breaking at the mention of his name.  
  


Osaze glanced over to her direction. "But to do this before Khufu knows, we must do something that is forbidden….” He paused. “…Something the Ennead have given our permission."  
  


She spoke aloud, "What is my part?"  
  


"You will have to lose your immortality.”  
  


She stared down to Ramses and saw him smile back. Her beloved son, a guardian who would be destined to pass his task to another once he has passed through the hall. For he was just the guardian of all guardians, someone to look out for the others. To protect the protectors.  
  


But herself? She knew that being the Wadjet carrier she would live through this first life forever until destiny arrived and sought her through.  
  


However, she knew that she had to choose to save this mortal world. She would wait for him. Hetepheres would wait for Kahmunrah.  
  


"If it allows me to be with him again, I will."  
  


Hetepheres kissed Ramses's forehead. "We will be together, my son..." She whispered, "We will wait for your father."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**_2502 - Kher Neter [Giza]  
  
_ **

Down in the depth of the deserts, underground: Ahkmenrah let out a gasp of air.  
  


His eyes opened wide, and yet when he looked forwards: all he saw was darkness.  
  


‘ _Where am I?_ ’ He asked himself. ‘ _W-What is this?_ ’  
  


Fingers flexing, he shuffled his hand and lifted it up. It wasn’t far that he felt something wooden above him. Ahkmenrah then realised what he was in. A coffin. His sarcophagus.  
  


“H-Help. Help!” He called out, trying to push the lid away. He remembered that there were many layers that comprised the overall sarcophagus. Mainly made of stone and metals and jewel.  
  


‘ _What if I lose air?_ ’ He thought. ‘ _Am I going to die again?_ ’ Ahkmenrah loathed to think to morbidly, and yet could not help but admit the truth.  
  


He was dead. But why was he back to life?  
  


Ahkmenrah continued to scream and shout, pushing all his strength until he heard stone creak. Light began to filter into the small opening until it was enough him to sit up and jump out of the deathbed.  
  


What was waiting for him outside was unexpected.  
  


It was his father. Merenkahre of Kemet in his the body Ahkmenrah had last saw him. With his royal clothes and staff.  
  


“My son.”  
  


He couldn’t speak – to shocked to also notice his mother step out of the shadows of the dark hall they were in.  
  


Shepseheret approached him slowly, reaching her arms out. “Ahkmen…it’s alright.”  
  


“No!” He wavered and shuffled back a few steps. “Don’t touch me! I…are you real? Is this real?”  
  


Both their eyes were not lying this time.  
  


“Ahkmenrah.” Merenkahre caught his eyes. “It has…It has been a while since I’ve seen you.”  
  


‘ _Well of course_ ,’ Ahkmenrah scoffed internally. ‘ _You’ve been pretending to be dead for years!_ ’  
  


Instead, he replied: “It has.” Ahkmenrah turned to his mother and asked, “Are you alright? How…how long?”  
  


“A few years.” She softly spoke. “I woke up a year ago.”  
  


He creased his eyebrows. Confusion still filled his head with questions. “I…don’t understand this.” Ahkmenrah questioned, “Why are we alive? I should be…I’m not.”  
  


“It would seem the Ennead have granted un salvation.” Merenkahre explained, then anger coursed his face. “Khufu has taken us.”  
  


“What do you mean?”  
  


Merenkahre stared at him and stated: “He killed our royal line.” He paused. “Every supporter we had are either gone or dead.”  
  


Ahkmenrah’s mouth was open the whole time. When he shut it, he gritted his teeth and asked: “That can’t…no. Hetepheres and Ramses should be alive. They can’t be.”  
  


“I’m sorry, my son.” Shepseheret sadly looked at him. “We…we never knew what happened.”  
  


“No.” He snapped. “This can’t be the end. I can’t just live the rest of eternity here! People need us up there!”  
  


Merenkahre shook his head. “It is not ideal to leave.”  
  


“And why?” He asked impatiently. “Why can’t we leave? Why can’t we go out! You’re perfectly alive as long as the tablet is here!”  
  


“The tablet only works during the night!” His father barked. He lowered his voice. “If you don’t return during the day, you will turn into dust.”  
  


Merenkahre closed his eyes and turned to his wife. Shepseheret shuddered out a breath and saw Ahkmenrah’s anger still simmering on the surface.  
  


“Ahkmen,” She placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “I know it is a shock at first, but give yourself some time.”  
  


He shut his eyes and glanced away. Ahkmenrah couldn’t bear this at all. He was dead but not truly. His life hung on a string by the Ennead. He didn’t even know what this prophecy was, or what was true or not anymore.  
  


His brother was gone. His sister-in-law was gone. His nephew was gone or missing. Ahkmenrah failed his vow to protect his family. He would have to live through the burden on keeping his brother’s artefact safe. The golden tablet of Kahmunrah…was now in his hands.  
  


Though what Ahkmenrah the First didn’t know, Hetepheres had given her immortality away…  
  


And that another would be granted the gift thousands of years later…to a baby born in a storm. Their paths would intertwine: and would bring the hope that could bring down the darkness growing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this is late. It's because I just moved to uni that I'm currently in chaos. So at some point, I will be posting more. But as of now, I'm going to post the other half of the Interlude and find more time to write Part 3.
> 
> Thank your love and support with this story. And have a lovely day/night. <3


	37. Part Three: Four Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three of Audere Est Facere
> 
> Four years after we last saw Rowena, Larry, Ahkmenrah and Leslie: a lot has changed and with that many people have moved on. In the late spring of 2014, we return to Rowena getting on in London as the head of the British Museum. 
> 
> But things don't seem so happy and going for her as of late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin Part 3 of Audere Est Facere, and this is probably going to be a shorter part than part 1 and 2 in regards with word count. I'm currently behind schedule with writing future chapters because of how busy I'm now at the moment, but I promise you I will definitely complete this considering how much I've planned the ending.
> 
> Thank you again for your support and I hope you had a good weekend. :)

**P A R T T H R E E**

**~oOo~**

**khet**

[Anc. Egyptian for 'physical form'; It had to exist for the soul to have the intelligence or the chance to be judged by the guardians of the underworld.]

**~oOo~**

**Rowena XXIX  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

Sometimes she wished she could just die.  
  


It was a horrible thought to believe in. Some would probably be horrified at her if she ever said aloud in front of a crowd.  
  


And some would probably laugh at her and agree.  
  


Her adopted mother, Eleanor, would have gone pale and collapse in shock if she ever heard Rowena say that she wanted to drop dead and never be alive ever again. Her father would've given her a disapproving look, a look which sent her many times gazing down at her feet until she apologised for either insulting one of the boys around the estate or missing her lessons. As much as she was confident as a young child, she still respected her parents – more so from her father.  
  


But to be over two hundred years old: it should seem reasonable to say it.  
  


Rowena Elizabeth Clarke had lived through countless of lives. And have live throughout many historical events for her liking; which made it a good excuse for her to not sleep well during the nights when the whole of the city was asleep and silent.  
  


However, it wasn’t the case for Rowena four years ago.  
  


It seemed so long ago that she used to live in one of the busiest cities in the world. Dared it matched London, New York City had a constant vibrancy - from dusk to dawn. The tall skyscrapers and long avenues brightly lit with adverts and posters. The yellow taxis and long traffic, where cyclists weaved through them alongside workers in slacks of suits. Pockets of green spaces like Central Park where it offered zoos, paths and an ice rink.  
  


Both cities showed their beauty in the day. Though by night: everything seemed to bring a brighter picture for New York.  
  


The lights never dimmed; there were always people out and about and going on their business as if it was the day. What stood out more was the special building near Central Park - and that was the American Museum of Natural History.  
  


When the sun went down, and the evening began: the museum came to life. Quite literally.  
  


All the exhibits, wax statues, figurines and Easter Island heads and bones - they all came to life. The culprit would have to be a golden tablet, situated in the Egyptian wing of the museum. Protected now by a glass electrocuted case and many security cameras, it was an artefact worth more than its price. The magic of the Tablet was sacred and pure, but its worth led to those who sought to use it that neither good or safe.  
  


Rowena's first encounter of the tablet was almost a century ago, in the city of Giza. Near the Sphynx: the tomb of Ahkmenrah and his parents was found - where they discovered him. It wasn't until the mid-20th century that she first witnessed the extent of the power it held.  
  


A tablet that could bring people back from the dead and create life in ones it hadn't. Something so powerful like that could draw attention to all aspects of the world. May it be for good or for evil. For one thing, it gave Rowena the good aspect of life and the understanding of being immortal.  
  


Rowena met _them_. Her museum family - a group of exhibits that she grew to love and care for. She also met the nightguard, Larry Daley, and the docent Rebecca Hutman. Larry's son Nick; without him: Larry would never continue to work at the museum after the second night of his job.  
  


And Rowena: she met _him_ for the second time.  
  


Ahkmenrah was an enigma that clung to her mind, heart and soul like no other. They had met in the oddest circumstances and grew their relationship with a struggle to understand each other (both in language and mannerism). Their discussions rarely left them accepting the other, almost having taking days to finally apologise and continue their tasks to learn the new world.  
  


Her first impression of him was neither good nor bad. She saw the compassion and patience he held (to some extent; he did get flustered if ever got something wrong at first). But that was on the outside. It took years to finally saw the inner mind and heart the pharaoh possessed and saw a man that bore a weight that was never his, to begin with.  
  


At first, she couldn't understand as to why he loathed being king. But the hidden contexts, the subtle gestures and quips he would talk about his reign began to form a story. Of a boy that grew up too quickly, and never had the chance to have a life of his own.  
  


Rowena then realised how much they had in common. Both came from backgrounds of royalty and high class, forced to include themselves in a society where duty came first than any other. She realised then that her side of the story, she was able to live through her childhood untouched by the reality outside.  
  


However, no matter the situation of consequence - he always held himself highly and always looked forwards. It was only the evening when they began dancing which she saw the true Ahkmenrah: allowing herself to conclude that he meant more to her than just a friend.  
  


Then it all came crumbling down.  
  


Forced to leave Cambridge, Ahkmenrah was shipped to New York as an agreement to the American Museum of Natural History. Their friendship, which blossomed only for just a few years - was taken and thrown into a pit of betrayal and hatred. He had hated her, even after she confessed to him that she was immortal. And Rowena would have to agree with Ahkmenrah. How would someone do something like this?  
  


She had been called names, racial slurs and titles about her. But none of them hurt her as much as Ahkmenrah's.  
  


It was why she would take another fifty years to have the guts to return. She buried her memories of her time with him and focused on her new life with her daughter: Peggy.  
  


Then her daughter passed away.  
  


Rowena wondered if it was a punishment for what she did to the Egyptian pharaoh or if it was fate either way. She hated to think of anything deeper like this. Rowena was never a religious person; ever more attentive to the enlightenment of science and logic than magic and the beliefs of a higher being. Though since her first death, Rowena had no choice but to believe in such things.  
  


They met again, and now they were apart again after she left him for London.  
  


Perhaps the gods chose this side of fate for them, teasing them with short periods of love and closeness. Now, Rowena had access to better connections. The 21st century was a good time for them as she was able to call, text or chat through technology. They kept in contact ever since her departure, always talking about what they've done each evening (or day for her matter) and discuss some new things they've discovered.  
  


Larry was impressed that she and Ahkmenrah held a long-distance relationship this far. She was quite proud too, in her opinion, but it also came with bumpy obstacles throughout the four years.  
  


Arguments again about their past and their ideals of morals. Their opinions, so similar and yet so contrasting - forced them to realise how much their life different. A British 18th Century born woman and an Old Kingdom Egyptian man were an odd match. Their connection was tied in a dangerous string.  
  


And that was the title of _Heka_ Guardian.  
  


They still weren't sure as to what the title entailed but it wasn't a topic Rowena would easily put aside. She and the rest of her friends were at risk and it was her job along with Larry to keep them and the Tablet safe during the day.  
  


That and plus their real-life jobs of working in their museums. As chairwoman to the British Museums, she had been working non-stop ever since she landed in Heathrow. Thrust once more into the world of business, history and politics - Rowena began to realise how much she missed New York.  
  


That was how she began her morning that day: waking up and telling herself how much she missed her old Brownstone.  
  


Her London townhouse was similar to it, painted white, grey and black and smaller in size. Her housekeeper Yara also lived with her in a flat Rowena gave to her on the lower ground floor. Whereas her New York housekeeper was verging onto her fifties, Yara was around her thirties - currently working for her after moving to the UK as an asylum seeker.  
  


Why Rowena chose Yara had been purely in kindness and sympathy. The woman had been moving from one hostel to another until she bumped into Rowena near Southall. Rowena, being the ever-graceful walker, wasn't looking where she was walking and walked straight into the woman who was carrying bags of her shopping. All Yara's food was thrown across the pavement and onto the road and the woman had shouted at her for a good five minutes until Rowena apologised.  
  


Yara had the very right to be mad at her, and Rowena admitted herself she was not in the mood then (since Antonio decided to dump a bunch of work into her hands).  
  


To compensate, she took Yara to buy the same food and pay the amount - even buying extra things. Next thing she knew, they spent the whole afternoon talking about their life and their struggles. Both being women of colour and living alone, their common ground showed them that even different lives could hold the same problems.  
  


From then: she asked Yara to work for her as a housekeeper, providing her with a flat to stay and cheap rent. The woman grew suspicious at first, but once Rowena revealed that it won't matter for her - Yara had burst into tears. She blessed her in her native tongue, and Rowena surprised her back by talking in Arabic.  
  


Now it would seem Rowena had a new friend - who liked to wake her up in the mornings with a breakfast fit for a whole family. After that, it was preparing to head to work and taking the Tube.  
  


The commute was something she didn't miss in both cities. She missed having a car and driving about. But London traffic confused her. The roads have changed during her life and Rowena was not challenging herself against a SatNav or _Siri_.  
  


Rowena arrived at the side entrance of the British Museum and greeted the security guard at the gate. David waved her a good morning, waving his _Nice_ biscuit as he buzzed her through. A lot of the staff walked about, sometimes greeting her a good morning. The younger curators were confident to speak with her, despite her position. Rowena was glad that her status hadn't affected it; she loved conversing with as many people as possible to make sure the environment was welcoming and comfortable.  
  


Her office was the largest, marked by a large golden plaque that said her name _'R. Bates: Chairwoman of the British Museum_ '. Unlocking the door with her key card, she strode in and removed her bag onto the desk and checked her phone.  
  


Some texts from both Richard and Larry - all to do with the museum dinner and show they were having this week. There was a text from her son-in-law: Steven, and a miss call from her granddaughter Hettie. Most of their texts weren't important to immediately think about, though it comforted her that she still had some connection to those. Rowena could only thank the inventors and people of this era.  
  


Once she sat down and opened her computer, she began opening the letters placed on the box in the corner of her desk. A few minutes in, she heard a knock on her door. Her head looked up, too quickly to her liking as she felt a sharp jab in her head. Rowena cursed mentally before heading up to open the door.  
  


Standing in front of her, Rowena glanced up to find amber eyes looking down. A sincere smile graced his lips, making the corner of her mouth lift. Stepping aside, she gestured for him to enter.  
  


Antonio Paladino appeared to be prepared for the day, with a fresh clean-shaven face and his usual immaculate attire that could outmatch any Vogue model. Rowena had to admit, from the simple navy suit he wore: her burgundy cardigan, white collared shirt and black trousers seemed too casual.  
  


' _A lovely way to cheer me up is to be downgraded_ ,' She grumbled in her head and pulled up the chair near her sitting area. She asked him if he wanted some tea and he declined politely.  
  


"Good morning," Antonio curtly nodded his head to her and settled on the opposite chair. "You seem rather tired. Did you go to sleep at all?" He asked, concern written in his features.  
  


' _No...and please do not get me started on sleep_.' She exasperated to herself.  
  


When the kettle finished boiling, she let the bag soak into the water and brought a small jug of milk onto the coffee table in front of her. Sitting down, Rowena looked at him.  
  


There wasn't much point to lie to her friend. So, she sighed, rubbing her temple with her thumb and index finger. Rowena straightened her back and leaned against the soft back of the chair as she then stirred her tea.   
  


"No." She admitted but tried to divert the truth, "Just some...just haven't been sleeping well."  
  


It was an understatement that she had not. Most nights consisted of her reliving her entire life.  
  


Memories flooding left, right, front and centre as if she was sinking like the Titanic. She would wake panting, sweating profusely and her heart racing. She could only thank Yara's ability to sleep through her night actions, or else she would get a very sleep-deprived and grumpy housekeeper.  
  


Antonio wondered, "And what about the therapist?" He suggested, "I'm sure she's given you something."  
  


"She did." She replied, not wanting to elaborate any further. "Unfortunately, it hasn't made any improvement.” Rowena gave him a small smile.  
  


He gave her an unimpressed look and pursed his lips.  
  


Rowena should be appreciating the concern her dear friend had on her. After all: he had taken her place for almost four years during her stay in New York. But now he returned as Director of the British Museum alone. The Italian man was much like Richard when it came to their job. They took care of the museum as much as anyone would for any home. They were both busy men.  
  


So for Antonio to give his time to make sure she was alright, gave her more guilt than she was supposed to. He had been with her during her latest time in university and never had they lost contact. Their friendship already extended for her to be invited to his wedding ten years ago.  
  


Rowena finally answered him. "It's fine, Antonio."  
  


"Next thing you'll know; you decide to sleep in the next meeting." He quipped.  
  


She returned the gesture with a raised brow.  
  


"Also, Dr Campbell is coming in a few weeks. She had to wait for the new exhibit opening in New York." Antonio explained. "They're opening their brand-new planetarium, alongside several exhibits presenting the history of astronomy and astrophysics."  
  


Quickly understanding _which_ museum he was implying about, Rowena wanted to slap her forehead hard.  
  


' _You are an idiot, Bates_.' She scolded herself. ' _You forgot that the Hayden Planetarium's going to open, and you're supposed to call them about it!_ '  
  


"Oh right, I forgot." She said with a large huff. Shaking her head, she subconsciously tapped her fingers over her lap and bit her lip. "Sorry, I'm exhausted. All these things going on. With the plans for the winter rink this year at the Natural Museum and the Victoria and Albert museum wanting to showcase some things with the British Museum-"  
  


Her chest tightened and her vision blurred.  
  


There were too many things going on for her, that her life had become a ball of pressured gas ready to burst. But even all this mess, she would never admit to herself that she needed help - even if it's been years that she had tried to remove her stubborn streak.  
  


A hand fell over hers and she glanced towards him.  
  


Antonia softly spoke, " _Amica_. Breathe, as you always say."  
  


With the sound of his smooth voice, Rowena composed herself and whispered, "Thank you."  
  


Her eyes softened, placing another smile on her lips, "You always seem to keep me cool despite all of this.” She joked. “I wonder how you been coped without me for four years."  
  


"Oh, believe me I didn't." Antonio retorted, shaking his head. "So many young conservationists asking me what to do with _this_ and _that_."  
  


She gave him an amused look. One thing somehow both he and Richard had in common was their complaining about the younger staff pestering them.  
  


"And you do it so easily. Well particularly in the Romantic, Victorian and Egyptology departments. You've always been very good with them." He continued.  
  


Rowena smiled and replied, "Well... History should be treated like family."  
  


At the mention and mixed meaning of her words, her mind went to the group of exhibits she missed so much.  
  


He hummed in agreement and his eyes widened slightly. "Oh, before I forget: Dr Atkins called." Antonio spoke, "She says thank you."  
  


The mention of her name, she stopped herself from freezing in place. Salma hadn't acted at all for the past four years, despite her suspicions in her interest for the Tablet. Rowena could only hope it was the same situation as before and nothing to concern Ahkmenrah, Larry and her.  
  


"Ah yes...yeah." She trailed and then returned to her subject. "I sent Hettie to dig up some stuff for our team. Dr Atkins' been in Cairo for a while to oversee it."  
  


She took a sip of her drink, finishing the last bit in the cup.  
  


Rowena airily spoke, "Unfortunately...there is some tension between those two."  
  


"Understatement of the decade, _amica_." He commented, "You know how temperamental she is with people who are in her sites."  
  


That she could not deny. Her granddaughter was a force to be reckoned with. A force that matched her mother's and dulled by her father's upbringing.  
  


"Or so you say." Rowena grinned at him and teased, "It's why you hate to ask her for forensics."  
  


He groaned back and rubbed his temples. "Do not remind me." 


	38. Love in Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few weeks before the grand opening of the Hayden Planetarium, Larry finally asks the question to his long-term partner and girlfriend: Rebecca Hutman.
> 
> As of Leslie Carter - now Leslie Trench - we visit her and Garret (in the near future) over at London during their Honeymoon after their marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back to Audere est Facere. It has been over a week since my last update. A lot of things IRL have been happening and I'm currently in the process of editing parts 1 and 2.
> 
> Thank you again for the support and the hits from this. Really appreciate this. Love you all. :)

**Larry XXIV  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

He was having strange dreams lately.  
  


They didn't make any sense for him; it didn't help when they were short scenes of different things. But they all seemed too real as if he was living through the whole dream. Sometimes he would physically be there, watching the scene unfold at a distance. Sometimes he would be dreaming of conversations of some people or watching a person's life. Sometimes people in his dreams would react to him as himself.  
  


And sometimes they would interact with him - but it wouldn't be him at all. When he dreamt, it was as if he was living through the lenses of someone else. Another person, with a different personality and drive. He would speak differently too, in words that seemed too 'eloquent' for his Brooklyn New York accent.  
  


Strangest out of all of it, Larry felt that the person he was in the dream - was a woman.  
  


A smooth angelic voice, mixed with an accent that he wasn't sure from the tip of his tongue. She seemed to be a worker in some sort of palace, washing clothes and learning reading and writing.   
  


There was a glimpse when she was a little girl as well, playing with other girls and boys out in a courtyard. She was the outgoing of the group, who would never leave out a person and who would ask if they were alright.  
  


The first dream Larry had was a particular scene, when 'he' was listening to someone talk to 'him' and other children. They wore white linen and sandals, conversing about some stories about the gods and the morals of their culture.  
  


'He' would ask the teacher (well Larry assumed it was a teacher) why Set would seek to take Osiris' place and why Nephthys would give in to telling him where Osiris was. It was a debate between a grown man and a little girl until Larry would wake up - gasping out loud.  
  


His whole body would be drenched in sweat, panting by how surreal everything was until he would fall back to sleep.  
  


However, it wasn't the case for most nights, as he would lie awake until he spotted the sun peaking out or the sun just past the midway point. Larry could only thank Rebecca for being a heavy sleeper, or else he would be forced to take a night off and sleep until he was better.   
  


He carried on through with these dreams for the past six months as if nothing has changed. For him: he thought it was for the best since there were so many things going on in his life. The museum was his heart and soul for the past four years, having discovered the passion he wanted for his entire life. He had a son that had turned eighteen and becoming an adult.  
  


He also had Rebecca in his life and was the spotlight the entirety of this day.  
  


"Guys say something."  
  


"Like what?"  
  


"Anything!"  
  


"...Larry."  
  


With an exasperated sigh, he paced around the main entrance of the museum. He was on top of Rexy's podium, who had run out into the museum to play catch with Lewis and Clark. His feet making a click on the marble floor.  
  


Standing around the room was Teddy, Ahkmenrah, Octavius, Jedediah, Attila and Sacagawea. They had known why he was pacing, and why he felt sick to his stomach. His hands were fiddling each other in front, a nervous tick every time he turned and walked the same direction.  
  


Tonight was the special night, something he had been waiting for almost two years. Planning took him about six months prior, having helped by his museum friends, his family, Erica and Rowen. They all knew what was to come - but no one could understand the stress that was dragging him back all the way to his apartment: and to just forget it all.  
  


However, Larry couldn't. She was waiting for him to pick her up. He was only at the museum to sort the exhibits for the night. Teddy, Ahk and Sacagawea were kind enough to step in his job: knowing he would spend the whole evening with her. Nick was away at a friend's for a sleepover and would text him if he needed something (or to ask if he'd done it).  
  


Now it was just him - no one could pull him back.  
  


"You can do it Gigantor." Jedediah friend encouraged.   
  


Sacagawea's soft voice assured, "It's going to be alright."  
  


Larry opened his mouth and retorted, "I know but-"  
  


"What do you think she's gonna say?" The cowboy knocked his chin upwards to him and asked, "Whack you in the head and then run away?"  
  


There was a hiss from Jedediah as Octavius hit him in the arm.  
  


He stopped walking and snorted, "Probably the running away part but-"  
  


A hand placed itself onto his shoulder. Turning around, he found the former president halt his way. By looking at Teddy, Larry's face fell slightly from a tense look and he relaxed.  
  


The president always had some effect on Larry especially when it came to his stressful moments. Teddy was always there to stop him from driving himself off a cliff before he would break, using any measure. Either if it was a gentle nudge to calm himself, or mentally slapping Larry to his senses. He was glad Teddy got round this time to stop him once more.  
  


"You have nothing to worry about." Teddy gave him a sympathetic smile.  
  


He blurted, "I know, but-"  
  


The eyebrows on his face spoke otherwise, creasing to a stern look. "Lawrence, breathe," Teddy spoke.  
  


That phrase always got him to follow the instructions. He counted to ten, taking deep controlled breaths until he managed to relax his shoulders and spine. "Thanks, Teddy," Larry said, smiling faintly at him.  
  


The president patted his back and grinned. "Just relax my boy, you can do this."   
  


Larry thanked him back with the same gesture, noticing that Ahkmenrah approached him as well with a kind smile. The Egyptian pharaoh never ceased to forget reassuring Larry. In fact, everyone around him has supported him with this moment ever since he brought it up to them.  
  


Well, all because Rowen purposefully mentioned it to Ahkmenrah, who then couldn't help gossip about it with the Greeks and Sacagawea. Now almost everyone knew of the night.  
  


The young man bowed his head slightly and spoke, "We give you a good blessing to you, Guardian of Brooklyn."  
  


Larry at all them, seeing the assuring smiles and thumbs up. He turned to Ahkmenrah and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, guys." He said lastly, before exiting the museum and taking a deep breath of the fresh air.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"This is nice."  
  


The restaurant he and Rebecca were in was what he pictured in all of the romantic movies he watched. And Larry hadn't watched enough to know every single detail of that night. Though with the limited films he watched, it seemed all of the scenes that involve the person proposing to their partner somehow ended in either a disaster or some form of accident.  
  


Perhaps he should have watched more movies.  
  


It didn't help the fact that the heart in his chest was smashing against the walls of his ribcage. He could hear it as they sit down at the table he reserved for them. He thanked the waiter for the menus, but before they began scanning through it - he nervously responded to her;  
  


"Nick actually suggested this place, you know." He began, his hands shaking slightly. "And maybe Erica...and Rowen. You know people just give such good ideas, and I can't even choose between wearing black socks or navy socks and-"  
  


"Larry."   
  


His head flew up to look across the table. A comforting smile rested on her lips as she stared straight into his eyes. One thing that stood out from Rebecca had been her eyes. They were a blend of amber and yellow. Due to the lights from the hanging fairy lights and candles, it brought them to almost glow - capturing him to almost feel the room grow silent.  
  


"Breathe," Rebecca spoke softly.  
  


Following her words, he took a slow controlled breath and exhaled. ' _Come on Daley, you can do this_.' He said to himself.  
  


When he composed himself, he gulped before speaking. "A lot of people have been saying that to me." Larry continued, "One of them included a wax statue and the other one was a dead king so technically it's rather ironic but-"  
  


He didn't realise that his words sped up until he stopped and looked back to her.  
  


She asked, "But?"  
  


Larry opened his mouth once more to answer. He wanted to confess what's been going on in his head for the past few months. To tell her about the dreams. But somehow his mind prevented any sound from saying anything along the lines about it.  
  


Instead, he shook his head and chuckled nervously. Larry spoke, "Nothing."   
  


Changing the subject, she slowly spoke, "So...the big night." She gave him a mischievous smile. "Two more weeks."  
  


"Yeah. It's gonna be big." He gushed, another nervous laugh as he took a sip of his wine. "The planetarium was one of the largest projects McPhee and you put together. With the help from Sacagawea-"  
  


"Wea."  
  


"Yeah...and Ahk." He sighed and wryly smile, "And it's just...I hope it just goes well."  
  


"It's going to go well, Larry." She reassured him, reaching forwards to hold his hand. "Just believe in yourself."  
  


Larry wanted to say that he doubted it. As someone that passed his forties, he was a man that slowly started to see the world from a different perspective than he would have twenty years prior. Perhaps ten years ago, he would still have the same mentally. But with a secret and trust to withhold - the burden and expectations skyrocketed.  
  


What if the night goes badly? What if the exhibits misbehave or create an accident? Or worse: what if one of them reveals the secret? They were already in danger of some secret cult which they've been trying to find for four years now. Nothing has popped up since then and it's been eerily quiet across Cecil's side.  
  


The food came just as he answered, and he quickly thanked the waiter.  
  


Though, he continued to ramble on: "I believe in a lot of things. Like the superstition of putting shoes on the table and whatnot and uh-" Larry paused on more time to see her give him an amused smile.  
  


That smile, however, made his heart swell.  
  


"Sorry, let's just eat." He sheepishly replied and picked up his cutlery.  
  


The rest of their meal was better in his opinion. Their conversation flowed more freely, discussing the recent news worldwide and the local ones. A few years back, before Rowen left, New York City elected a new mayor alongside some changes towards the heritages around the city. Most of the historical sites have been implemented special protection according to Rebecca, adding more 'guards' in some tourist attractions.  
  


She didn't seem pleased about the situation. Larry saw the disgruntled look she gave as well as stressing the antiquities department in America for doing something like it. He could only support his girlfriend with the outcome, knowing well how passionate she was with history. Ever since she returned to her book tour, she had somehow dialled down her passions with the Native American history and spoke more about the issues of historian's place in society.  
  


Of course, Rebecca still talked about Native American History more than the average person (he was quite relieved about it, to be honest). Though now it involved speaking on behalf of the indigenous people in the present day and giving them better representation in the media. What better way to do it is through teaching.  
  


Hence why Rebecca joined the Night Programme to help Sacagawea teach visitors the indigenous history and culture once a week.   
  


Larry was proud that she had found a way to weave her passion into the present in order to set a better future. A part of the money was given to a charity to support the groups in America, after asking the board dozens of times until they accepted Rebecca's request. It was one of the many reasons why a part of the Hayden Planetarium would be dedicated to the charity itself.  
  


When they were done with their meals - and quite full from the amazing tiramisu - Larry paid and aided Rebecca with her jacket. They thanked the waiter with a tip and they exited the restaurant.  
  


Whilst they stood by the curb, Rebecca turned to him and asked, "Where are we going next?"  
  


Larry bit his tongue from grinning too widely back. He wanted to surprise her with something that he had planned months before. And something she'll appreciate as someone particular for her.  
  


So he held his hand out, and she gladly took it gently. They walked down the road, fingers interlocked and their bodies close. Rebecca hummed again, raising her eyebrows at him.  
  


He finally answered, "I thought you'd like to just take a walk." He wispily spoke, "See our city, you know...And I know just the place."  
  


The special spot which got him evermore nervous was getting closer. It wasn't far from where they parked the car. But for extra precaution, Larry took that chance to blindfold Rebecca with his handkerchief. She was caught off guard by his action, and he quickly apologised and assured that it won't be for long.  
  


Around the block, they slowly cross the road and headed into the main entrance of the complex. He held her hand throughout the journey, catching her as she tripped on a step up to the correct spot he wanted her in.  
  


When they finally arrived, and Larry prepared to remove the blindfold - he smiled and told her she can remove it.  
  


Slowly and carefully, Rebecca unbound the knot and took off the handkerchief.  
  


"Surprise."  
  


Her jaw dropped as she audibly gasped.  
  


Where Larry took her in was the largest botanical garden in the city. Lit with led lamps hanging from the ceiling, the glasshouse was filled with a variety of flowers and plants. The colours were vibrant beautiful, highlighted by how they planted them around the area.  
  


Since it was spring, it was the perfect place to do it.  
  


He waited for her to blink away the shock. Rebecca's hand was over her mouth before she then spoke, "Wow...this is amazing." She stared at him and questioned, "All the botanical gardens, just us?"  
  


Rocking on his heels, Larry nodded. "Just us." He explained, "I pulled some strings."  
  


"Rowen and Richard?"  
  


Larry raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Actually this time it was Rowen's ex-house keeper. Her daughter works at the gardens."  
  


Humming in response, she held her hand out to him and they wandered around the glasshouse quietly. "It's beautiful." She whispered. "Flowers. Did you know that the Victorians created a flower system which couples usually give to one another? It was rather romantic if I say so myself."  
  


"So you mean like this?"  
  


In his hand, he revealed a small bouquet of flowers. They were a variety of them: asters, bittersweets, red camellias, ferns, heliotropes and irises and singular yarrow. Tied in a white bow, Larry held it toward her and she took it slowly.  
  


Rebecca's eyes sparkled at awe. He could see her thinking carefully at each meaning.  
  


She then creased her brows and said, "Oh, uh..that means-"  
  


Panicking, he took out the begonia from the bouquet and felt his cheeks grow warm.  
  


"Crap, uh. No." He cursed, thinking with annoyance at who would put that there.  
  


' _Goddamnit Dexter. This is why I shouldn't bring you out into the city.'  
  
_

Once he placed the flower in a nearby pot, he nervously scratched his neck and apologised, "Mistaken it for something else. Nevermind."   
  


"But that's so thoughtful of you." She thanked him with a chaste kiss, leaning in to press her lips onto his.  
  


It was now the right time to do it.  
  


' _Okay Daley, you can do this._ ' Larry breathed. ' _You work in a museum and have fought an evil pharaoh - you can certainly ask the important question_.'  
  


They stopped in the central dome of the glasshouse, where there was a fountain. Larry turned to face her, holding both her hands in his and took a deep controlled breath.  
  


"Look, um. Rebecca. Rebecca Hutman." He began, smiling wryly towards her. "Docent and now the head curator of the museum. My sweetheart."  
  


He paused to see her reaction. Rebecca kept quiet, but she smiled warmly to let him continue.  
  


"The day I first met you, that night I thought I was gonna be eaten by a fifteen-foot dinosaur skeleton and beheaded by a Hun. And in a few years, I didn't realise we would be basically raising a family together, the museum. Now: we're about to make our home bigger." Larry spoke.  
  


Her eyes watered.  
  


"However, sometimes we need to move. Not in a bad way, no. I mean sometimes moving on is sad for some and good for others." Larry backtracked himself and said, "Okay back to my point. What I'm trying to say is that maybe moving on doesn't mean saying goodbye. Maybe moving on means just changing some things and such...and it's a journey. For me and you. But sometimes we need a partner to hold onto, to keep them afloat. For the journey to not feel so lonely."  
  


With his hands slipping off hers, he fumbled in his pocket and internally sighed in relief. The box was still there.  
  


He bent down in one knee and held the box in his hands - opening it slowly to face the content inside.  
  


"Rebecca Diane Hutman," Larry said. "Will you be my partner on this new journey with me?"  
  


Ears ringing, he could sense his heart pounding out of his chest.  
  


Wiping her eyes from tears, she silently nodded vigorously and stepped forward.  
  


"...Yes."   
  


His shaking hands placed the ring into her finger. The second after, Larry embraced her into a tight hug and kissed her.  
  


When they leaned out for a breath, he grinned at her and wiped the tears off her cheek.   
  


"Yes, of course, Lawrence Daley," Rebecca whispered to him. "I will be your new partner in crime."  
  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**Leslie VII  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

"I've never been to London," Leslie Carter said, folding her arms across her chest. "Rowen always pictured it as rainy and grey. But this is unexpected."  
  


She stood by the large window, looking over the city skyline of the British capital. From here, she could spot the Thames river through the buildings, Westminster and Big Ben poking through all of the tall skyscrapers.  
  


London was entirely different from New York City. Yes, there was the bustling and business of the city, with traffic consisting of red buses and odd black taxis (called cabs). The roads were not blocks and in straight lines, winding and curving from one part of the city to another. There was a pub in every corner of the street, with people drinking pints in the middle of the day. Tourists taking pictures of the iconic monuments.  
  


But what London had that New York didn't was a deeper history, which ran underneath the veins of the city. There were statues of people from history, places where people were born and brought up. They had gone to Shakespeare's Globe to see the theatre in which the famous playwriter used to perform shows. Buckingham Palace was a hotspot for all tourists. She and Garret tried to take pictures with the red guards and found a good spot for it.  
  


They had managed to go and take a day trip to Kew Gardens, one of the largest estates adorned with glasshouses and beautiful plants and flowers. It had to be one of the most romantic things Garret had done with her during their time as being married.  
  


Married. It still felt foreign in her mind thinking who she was now.  
  


The ring on her left hand already showed the truth, a beautiful silver band that indicated her love to him. Leslie had worn it for almost a month now, during her wedding day.  
  


It seemed like yesterday Garret was getting on his knees proposing to her at a restaurant in New York. They were having a last-minute date before Garret was heading off to D.C for work for two weeks. Her emotional attachment issues did lessen throughout the years after Rowen had left back to the UK. Over time, Leslie began to adjust and grow used to the feeling of the house being empty and her time alone. Sometimes it did give her some discomfort, but she secretly felt proud for withstanding her fear.  
  


Their date was set in the same restaurant Garret took her for their first date. It was an Arabian style cuisine, with Halal foods and probably the best Baklava she ever had. It was just after desert that Garret decided to go down on one knee, subtly picking the napkin he 'dropped'.  
  


Leslie was in loss of words.  
  


Tears spilling over her cheeks and she constantly nodded, she whispered the word yes and kissed him. It was every person's dream to be proposed, to finally feel special to someone that they would give their love to you and vice versa. Leslie could never be happier than that night, as the people around them congratulated them for the engagement.  
  


The next two years were a blur. Leslie was now a proficient doctor in her expertise in surgery whereas Garret became a consultant to Ancient Antiquities for S.H.A - something which she had not discussed with him.   
  


That day when that man visited her always stuck in the back of her head. Whenever she thought of S.H.A or Garret's work, she wanted to tell him the day she met the man they wanted to know where her grandfather was and if he knew the location of his work.  
  


Though who she told of the event had been her mother. Irene Carter was every bit of a mother you would expect, and it didn't stop her for being overprotective of her only child being visited by anyone asking for her grandfather. When she first heard this, Leslie asked why she needed to contact the number written in the back of the photo frame.  
  


But all Irene told her was that it was vital for their safety. Not only because she was a Carter, but because her mother seemed too suspicious in her background. Leslie never questioned her mother's background. She had married Dad and had her. But she knew Dad used to live in the UK as a child before moving to the old Carter house. Irene met Leslie's dad during a trip to Europe.  
  


Call it a summer romance, and the next thing Leslie knew she was apparently born after their hasty marriage.  
  


Nothing else was known about her mother, other than her lack of family. It was why when Leslie was planning the guestlist for her wedding with Garrett, most of her family was on the Carter side and some friends from her mum's. Leslie didn't mind. She would never judge her mother's choices, being brought to have what had to be a good childhood and now a career.  
  


Their wedding was a Spring one, a nice reception where her family home was. It was there when she walked down the aisle that Leslie fell deeper in love with the man standing at the altar.  
  


When they first met, Garret and she hardly knew each other. She was a first-year medical student whereas he was a history student. Both from two different families and contrasting subjects. Their first encounter wasn't until Hailey and Kai decided to ditch them to party and Leslie was hiding in a closet from all the ruckus and noise. Opening the door assuming it was Hailey, it had been Garret.  
  


Shoved into the closet without noticing her, it took an awkwardly long while until they finally got to talk. Their interests in literature and movies got them speaking the whole night until Kai found them (unfortunately not making out) an hour later.  
  


How time flies when. Now they were here: in London.  
  


Garret wrapped his arms around her, placing his chin on her shoulder. "That's because it's summer and I thought our part two of our honeymoon should be here."  
  


Tilting her head to him, she asked. "We won't be too long though right? You didn't tell me how long we'll be here?"  
  


"Only for a few days." He pecked her cheek softly and explained, "I have some conferences to go to that's why. Since I'm now a specialist in the field of history, they want me to some things with parliament."  
  


Even if they were on their holiday, both of them had their careers in priority.  
  


"Yay work. I also have to be to work in two weeks." Leslie tiredly cheered, shaking her head in disbelief. "Some are on holiday at the moment at work. Sorry that I'm making things a bit too tight."  
  


"Perfectly understandable," Garret replied, stepping away and beginning to fix his tie.  
  


Leslie turned around and helped him.  
  


He smiled tenderly to her and spoke, "This is why I married a doctor. Savings lives and doing the right thing."  
  


She rolled her eyes back at the comment, but inside her stomach was still rolling in circles. She would never get used to him complimenting her job. "I became a doctor because I loved it. But sometimes other things start to pop up and you don't seem so sure about the whole thing, you know?" Leslie laughed nervously and said, "Sorry, I'm just rambling on again."  
  


Pressing a kiss on her lips, their mouths moulded together. However, it didn't last as long as she anticipated.   
  


Pouting at him, Garret laughed and said, "I won't be too long. Tonight, we'll go out. A ferry dinner."  
  


"I'd love that." Leslie grinned and watched him leave their room. When the door shut, her smile faltered slightly.  
  


Even as a woman grown, and a newly wedded wife: it didn't indicate that she had the guts to pick up the phone that began ringing. Not because Leslie was terrified of phone calls. It was because of the contact number.  
  


The same one that had kept calling her since that day the man visited her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victorian Flower Dictionary
> 
> aster - a symbol of love, daintiness
> 
> bittersweet - truth
> 
> red camellia - you're a flame in my heart
> 
> fern - sincerity, humility; also, magic and bonds of love
> 
> heliotrope - eternal love, devotion
> 
> iris - a message
> 
> yarrow - everlasting love
> 
> begonia - beware, dark thoughts


	39. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big Night for the Hayden Planetarium has arrived, and both Larry and Ahkmenrah notice something unusual happening with the Tablet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Audere est Facere. There's nothing really to say but just a thank you once more for the support and the reads.
> 
> We also reached over 200k words. Geesus, how did we get this far?!
> 
> I am currently on the progress of some editing in parts 1 and 2. Don't worry, they are not major. Just fixing some grammar and some spelling and adding some extra dialogue to make things flow a bit better.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :)

**Ahkmenrah XI  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

Adjusting his collar, Ahkmenrah placed his hands over each other and stood in front of the glass case - using the case containing weapons as a mirror. It was just a few last-minute touch-ups, trying to make sure that every part of his outfit seemed in place and immaculate.  
  


"Are you all set?"  
  


He spun around to his back to find the voice calling out to him. Kai Winterson ambled towards him, a black device in his hand as well as a clipboard. Attached on his ear was a thin curved device, with a dot at the end. They were called microphones, apparently, which enabled people to talk through from the other end of the device and vice versa.  
  


The young man was around his mid-twenties, perhaps a couple of years older than what Ahkmenrah was since his death. Kai's slick black hair and cutting black suit fitted him, matching to the shiny black shoes he wore.  
  


It was strange how men dressed in the modern-day for formal occasions. There was no jewellery nor any gold attached to their clothing, apart from the buttons on their sleeves and perhaps studs on the lobe of their ears. Ahkmenrah himself was wearing something similar to the Night Programme assistant.  
  


He even wore something similar before a few years back. But this time: it was a black suit, with a white sleeved shirt. He disliked the bowtie despite Larry insisting to put it on for the occasion.  
  


And _the_ shoes.  
  


Socks were such an oddity when he first wore them, and they still made his feet feel weird after taking them off. Ahkmenrah understood well about Image, and it would not do him and the museum well if he turned up and wore his normal attire around the dinner when he wasn't 'performing' for the guests.  
  


His hair was tamed, though glad it wasn't fully slicked back like Kai's. He loved the natural curls his hair made (one thing Rowen mentioned one time when they were initially friends, which then also kickstarted his growing infatuation with the woman).  
  


One thing he did found himself appealed to was the added gold cufflinks and buttons on his jacket, embellished with the symbol of the Ankh and Wadjet symbols. When he fiddled with them: he would smile, remembering who had given it to him.  
  


"Indeed Kai, though it would seem I will just be there as a guest." Ahkmenrah answered, and adding: "Well. I assume so, according to Larry."  
  


Kai nodded and replied, "Ah okay. Awesome then. I'll see you down at the Planetarium." He stepped backwards, preparing to leave the corridor. Kai asked with slight hesitation, "Oh and...have you seen Calli?"  
  


From the light, he quickly spotted his face turn a bit pink. Ahkmenrah refrained from smirking as he noticed the young man flushed red. "Not that I'm aware of. Have you not tried the Greek Exhibit?" He asked him.  
  


Making a noise of agreement, Kai replied. "Yes, and she wasn't there-"  
  


At that moment, a woman in a white _chiton_ glided into the corridor. Her blonde hair was draped in loose long waves, decorated by a violet strand of ribbon woven over the top of her head. The _chiton_ had a _peplos_ over it, pinned with golden brooches. On her feet, she wore leather sandals similar to what Ahkmenrah wore normally, the dark brown contrasting her blonde hair and grey eyes.  
  


Calliope had a solemn expression on her face when she saw Ahkmenrah. Though it only took a few seconds for her to dart her eyes straight towards the Night Programme Assistant and appear as a surprised gazelle. Her lips parted and both seemed to be stuck from saying anything.  
  


There and then: Ahkmenrah wished he wasn't here to sense this tension.  
  


' _Is this what everyone else felt like when Rowen and I were..._ ' His thoughts trailed off when Ahkmenrah coughed to make Kai respond.  
  


"Oh hi."  
  


The pharaoh wanted to facepalm when Kai said those words.  
  


He thought, ' _Ever so eloquent, Kai Winterson_.' He internally rolled his eyes.  
  


Luckily, Calliope nervously smiled back. She greeted him, "Hello. I was hoping to bump into you." She then turned to Ahkmenrah and nodded her head. "Good evening Ahk-Adonis. You're not wearing your..."  
  


With the way she glanced over his outfit, Ahkmenrah justified himself. "I am tasked to be a guest tonight."  
  


"Ah, alright." Calliope hummed and her eyes flashed quickly, finally reminding herself. "Kai. Teddy wants you down there to help with the lighting."  
  


"Okay, s-sure..." The young man stammered back.  
  


There was another break of silence, which Ahkmenrah almost feel like it was suffocating him from awkwardness. ' _At least I wasn't this bad!_ ' He moaned to himself before nudging his brow towards Kai.  
  


The young man immediately coughed and began, "Calli, um." Kai stuttered, "You look...nice."  
  


Ahkmenrah almost groaned.  
  


A blush formed over her cheeks as Calliope smiled, "Thank you." She looked at Kai with glimmering eyes. "You look dashing too."  
  


The two somehow clicked when Kai arrived for his first night as Larry's assistant four years ago. When the Greek Muse wanted to do a talk on the Ancient Greek tales and the mythology of their culture.

  
Somehow, their passion for both history and mythology sparked the awkward crush they had and it never seemed to change during this. Ahkmenrah and Calliope's sisters have tried their best to nudge the two together and to finally express their love, but to the whole of the museum's frustration: neither of them had the guts to tell each other.  
  


It was even harder when throughout the four years, Kai was only in the museum at night once a week. He would often aid Larry is directing them around and helping the visitors and was expected to keep the place in order when Larry wasn't there to do so. The two only grew closer as friends when Thalia and Clio nudged her to create a new section of the tours with him.  
  


Ahkmenrah liked Calliope and Kai. But the two were more oblivious than he and Rowen were with love.  
  


It was why when Kai followed Calliope to go and find Teddy to sort of the lighting, Ahkmenrah found a way to get the two alone for a few seconds.  
  


"I think I forgot something in the Egyptian wing." He told Kai. "I'll meet you down in the planetarium."  
  


There was a subtle moment of panic in the young man's eyes until he nodded and said 'see you later' The two walked together, feet apart between as they turned and disappeared around the corner. A little smirk escaped his mouth as he sauntered the opposite way to his exhibit.  
  


He bowed to the Jackals a good evening, instructing to them that they needed to stay put for the evening. Once they replied with a nod, they stood either side of the entrance in their guard positions. He then went over to his sarcophagus, which held his clothes, shoes and crown and went to hide his things with the lid. He was about to leave until an unspeakable force washed over him.  
  


' ** _Ahkmen..._** '  
  


He froze when the voice echoed in his head. Turning his head around, all he spotted was utter darkness of the dimly lit exhibit. He adjusted his jacket, taking another breath. ' _You're just nervous_ ,' Ahkmenrah told himself.  
  


Then he felt the room spin slightly.  
  


' ** _Ahk, you must go! Find her! Find her..._** '  
  


Ahkmenrah audibly gasped, trying to wake himself up. When he took a moment to bring himself up, he noticed his hands pressing against the glass casing of his sarcophagus. His hands were shaking, trying to balance his body until he could stand.  
  


Once the weird sick feeling and voice faded, he swallowed the bile down his throat - but suddenly stopped when his eyes laid across where the tablet was in.  
  


On the bottom of the tablet - a green stain began to crawl up its gold surface.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXV  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

"Tonight gonna be fun-fun!" The Easter Island head rumbled in excitement. "Here comes Dum Dum!"  
  


Entering the main hall of the museum, Larry found Sacagawea standing by the staircase. Her face concentrated on the paper clipped on the board in front of her as she ticked some things off with a pen. When the Native American woman rose her face, she smiled sincerely to her to which he returned with a wave.  
  


The whole museum was bustling with people and exhibits. The big event was tonight: the opening of the Hayden Planetarium which was a part of the newer part of the American Museum of Natural History. It was supposed to be a set of buildings dedicated for the Ancient History and Classical Sciences, something which the Greeks, Sacagawea, Ahkmenrah and Rowena have worked on for over four years.  
  


As for him, it was his job to introduce and promote the place with the Night Programme.  
  


They've been rehearsing for the past two months, making sure they knew their ques and perfecting their performances. For Larry's part, he had been directing and overseeing the whole performance, making sure the exhibits understood what they were doing and if resolve issues. Sacagawea and Ahkmenrah have been aid alongside Kai - checking in on the rest of the exhibits when he wasn't available and providing more ideas. Kai was an excellent coordinator and helped with the actual technology they needed such as the lighting and the music.  
  


If it wasn't for those three and the exhibits cooperating, Larry knew Richard and Rebecca would disapprove the whole formal event.  
  


But now it was coming to reality, as he and Sacagawea discussed the final bits before the show. They strode down through the hall, checking the Civil War soldiers who were polishing their bayonets and guns. The 16th Century Pilgrims ambled towards the direction of the planetarium whilst some of the animals were being rounded up by Lewis and Clark.  
  


"Hey, how we doing, Sac?" He asked her.  
  


Sacagawea tapped the ballpoint pen on the board as she answered. "Rexy is waxed and buffed. Teddy is grooming his moustache. Oh, and I reviewed fire safety procedures with the primordial men." Her head turned to him at the side and asked, "By the way, have you seen them lately? The museum has added a new one."  
  


"What?" He said without thought. His eyebrows then rose when he remembered; "Oh, I think Rebecca mentioned something. Where is she?"  
  


Sacagawea spoke, "Meeting with McPhee and the Chairwoman." Her brows furrowed as she asked, "I thought you came in at the same time?"  
  


"We did but argh-" He let out a tired frustrated noise and slapped his mouth shut with his mouth.  
  


A sympathetic expression graced Sacagawea and she softly said, "Hey, it's going to be alright Larry."  
  


He murmured a thank you to her, nodding to her with an assuring smile. When she responded with the same action, she was pulled away after being called by Lewis who needed help rounding the emperor penguins. Sacagawea bidding her leave and he nodded in understanding.  
  


And then another memory popped out of his head. Larry called to her, "Oh, and make sure the centurions stretch, all right?" He added, "They really went for it in the dress rehearsal and they're just not used to those kinds of dance moves."  
  


Sacagawea held a thumbs up and left to usher the animals down the corridor.  
  


He flicked his head back round to the rest of the exhibits lingering in the main hall and stepped towards the central reception desk, where he clapped his hands together.  
  


Larry then began, "Okay, everybody. Everybody, listen up! I don't want to make anybody nervous...but the mayor and the chairwoman are both out there." He continued, "And, I'm not a hundred per cent sure, but I think Regis Philbin, too."  
  


"Reeju Philbo?"  
  


The Huns - more specifically Attila - paused and stared at him. With a startled look, Attila seemed affected by the certain name he called out. Larry internally questioned where on earth did the warrior know about the famous man.  
  


"Yeah, Reeju Philbo," Larry answered, still confused.  
  


' _Huh, who knew Hun's like to watch talk shows_ ,' He thought.  
  


Attila and his Huns strode past towards the planetarium, happy to follow Larry's orders for once. As they disappeared, Larry felt the ground shake slightly by the force of the dinosaur's feet. Gazing up, he quickly ducked the swooping bone in the air. "Okay, Rexy, do me a favour. Watch the tail, okay?" He told the Tyrannosaurus. "There's gonna be an open flame."  
  


The skeletal dinosaur nodded his skull head and stomped away. Larry took another sigh and headed across to the bench, where a certain Capuchin was putting a _ton_ of talcum powder on his hands.  
  


"Oh, Dexter how you doing, my man? All limbered up? Looking good. I like the tie. Got kind of a Chippendales thing going on. All chalked up, ready to go?" He smiled at the little mammal, who squealed in response before grinning back.  
  


He wore a bowtie, small enough to wrap around his neck. Larry found it amusing that Nick found the accessory which Dexter agreed to wear. Or perhaps his son bribed the capuchin with a bunch of treats and toys.  
  


Either way, it seemed Dexter had to qualm and hurried to pass Larry to follow Attila and his group. There were still some exhibits left, who weren't going to perform but were there to entertain the event after the introduction.

"Good. Okay, everybody relax and have fun, okay? Don't worry. Rebecca, McPhee and Ahk will be there. Just pretend it's a rehearsal." Larry called out, to which the rest looked. Some nodded and some cheered, but at least there wasn't any protest - which he was only relieved on.  
  


That was one thing he should thank, that everyone was putting so much effort in the show. At first, when Rebecca and Richard proposed the idea to the rest of the museum: there were some groans and complaints about the special event. They were already having to do more nights than they expected as the night programme had gotten rather popular for both New York and the country.  
  


But then he suggested some ideas on what the exhibits could do, such as the Greeks performing a song, and the Huns and Civil War soldiers preparing to do a fight sequence (a safe one). The miniatures would help in the background (apart from the Aztecs who haven't much changed the past few years and still were hostile to the rest).  
  


Larry adjusted his bowtie and pulled back his hair with the help of his phone. As he did so, he saw a familiar figure approach him by the use of the camera. Closing his phone and tucking it away in his pocket, he turned to smile at Ahkmenrah.  
  


However, he paused when Larry saw the expression on his face.  
  


"Larry." The pharaoh looked at him seriously, though his eyes were littered with worry. "You better come see this."  
  


Larry nodded and gestured for Ahkmenrah to guide him to the Egyptian exhibit.  
  


As he caught up to step with him, Larry pried: "What's wrong Ahk? I thought you'd be out with Rebecca already?"  
  


They turned around the corner, getting closer to the exhibit. Ahkmenrah's face contorted to more nerves, slowly answering him, "I was intending to." He paused. "However, I came across something overly concerning."  
  


Once they arrived at the exhibit, there was an odd sense which lingered over the room.  
  


Maybe it was just Larry feeling the discomfort Ahkmenrah had already, though even in normal circumstance he wouldn't feel this crept out by the atmosphere. There was an irritating hum, making him itch and the hairs on the back of his neck stand.  
  


It only got worse when Larry saw what he meant.  
  


Hanging on the wall, protected by glass and security measures - was the tablet itself.  
  


But the bottom part was different  
  


There was a green stain crawling up the tablet. It seemed to crumble the gold flakes and looked almost like it was eating the material itself.  
  


"What the hell..." Larry muttered and glanced to the pharaoh. "Have you ever seen it like this before?"  
  


Ahkmenrah answered, "Never." He never left his eyes off the artefact. "This corrosion has never happened before. It has always been exactly the same."  
  


He opened his mouth and quickly shut it. He didn't want to jump into conclusions and say a possible culprit. Considering Ahkmenrah was the sole guardian of the tablet at the moment, he didn't want to worry the Egyptian. They had a show to do, and this was not helping at all.  
  


He bit his tongue before he wondered, "Do you think...something infected it or...?"  
  


"I have no idea. It could be something that could easily be resolved." Ahkmenrah admitted, fiddling with the cufflinks of his jacket. "And to be honest...my parents and my brother knew the secrets of the tablet better than I did-"  
  


Suddenly, a screeching sound filled his ears.  
  


' ** _They have found us._** '  
  


' ** _Go! We don't have time!_** '  
  


' ** _I am not leaving her!_** '  
  


Larry scrunched his eyes in the surprise of the noise, but he was distracted by Ahkmenrah's body stumbling towards his.  
  


Rushing with his arms, Larry caught his friend with slight ease and felt his heart speed up. His eyes. His eyes were glowing a mixture of blue and brown.  
  


' _What the crap..._ ' He thought before steadying Ahkmenrah in his feet. Larry then glanced up to the tablet.  
  


The tablet was glowing an odd shade of green, and the colour began to crawl further up the tablet. After a few seconds, the noise quietened down back to silence. He found himself still holding Ahkmenrah.  
  


"Hey. You okay?" He asked him.  
  


Ahkmenrah stood back up, thanking him. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Feeling rather faint."  
  


He patted the Egyptian's shoulder and said, "Just take it easy out there tonight, all right?" Larry suggested, "Maybe stick with Kai or Rebecca. We've got fifteen minutes until showtime."  
  


The pharaoh nodded, his mood slightly deflated but he took a deep breath before agreeing his decision. When Larry knew he was fine, he gestured him to follow him back out towards the event.  
  


However, the pharaoh didn't budge and pursed his lips. "Larry. Perhaps we should call Rowen."  
  


Larry paused and thought it through. At the mention of their immortal friend, he noticed Ahkmenrah look a bit disappointed.  
  


Rowen called a month before that she couldn't make it to the event, and apologised for a dozen of times to him and the rest of the museum. Though Larry clearly knew the apology was directed to her partner who was excited to spend the evening dressed up with her.  
  


Larry smiled sadly and said. "We will, Ahk. Don't worry too much. We're gonna figure this out tomorrow."  
  


"All right then." Lifting his head up, he appeared every inch of royalty despite the modern outfit he wore. Larry kept forgetting he was still a king.  
  


Well - a dead king more specifically.  
  


He cheered him up and added, "Come on, and let's fix that tie."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Give a big Texas "hell yeah" from old Jedediah...because I loved it too! Just send a smiley face. Yeah, but with a wink!"  
  


"A smiley face and a wink!"  
  


He found the two lovebirds watching YouTube, and rather too intimately. They were perched on the reception desk, cuddling with the makeshift cushion made of a former pin cushion. When he walked towards them, he placed his hands on his hips.  
  


"Guys, what are you doing?"  
  


Jedediah and Octavius glanced behind them and quickly pulled away.  
  


There: Larry raised an eyebrow.  
  


"We're just watching kittens." The Roman was the first to speak, which followed a hum of support from his cowboy partner.  
  


Larry answered, "You're on in five minutes." He checked his phone and waved his hands to them to move. "You got to focus, here."  
  


From his position, he saw Jedediah swat the general's hand and hissed, "I told you we don't have time for this!"  
  


"You gave it a Texas hell yeah!" Octavius paused. "Right. Sorry."  
  


Larry rubbed his finger over his temple and internally sighed. ' _Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing..._ '  
  


While they closed the computer down, he told them that he was going to hurry along but expected them to get their group ready at the planetarium.  
  


"Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you, Roman."  
  


"Something on the lines of love..."  
  


Larry stopped in his tracks.  
  


"Guys!" He called to them.  
  


There was a clank of metal and some shuffling before the two shouted back.  
  


"Sorry!"  
  


Rolling his eyes, he hurried down to the planetarium until he stumbled across the former president polishing his sword and rifle.  
  


"Hey, Teddy, ready to roll?" He greeted him, glancing down to the sword.  
  


Sheathing his sword into his holster, Teddy grinned and replied, "Indeed, Lawrence. Battle of San Juan Hill cool as a cucumber." He raggedly breathed. "Right now, butterflies like you wouldn't believe."  
  


Smiling, he reassured the older man. "You're gonna be great."  
  


"Lawrence?"  
  


"Yeah."  
  


Teddy questioned, "Have you seen the Neanderthals lately?"  
  


"No." He answered back and then irritably responded. "Why does everybody keep talking about this?"  
  


A roar of laughter escaped Teddy's lips. Before he mounted Texas, he said to him: "You may want to give it a look!"  
  


He wished he didn't look, as the next few minutes spent him talking to a wax neanderthal that looked eerily like him. What made it even more worse was that La (yes, his name was La) kept calling him 'Dada'.  
  


Larry huffed, _'I am going to have a word with McPhee about this_.'  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

The Hayden Planetarium at the Rose Centre for Earth and Space was the most expensive projects the AMNH had done. It would also have to be the riskiest area for the exhibits by the glass structure and the amount of technology surrounding them.  
  


But for tonight, the place was decorated for a formal dinner, with round tables and chairs covered in white cloth and floral vases. There was a platter of food on the side, with an ice-carved dolphin statue. On the elevated area was a bar, with people already getting alcoholic drinks and several mingling near the tables.  
  


As he entered the large voluminous room, he was dwarfed by the large dark dome above him. The lights provided were the chandeliers LED lights about.  
  


In the crowd of tables and people, he spotted her greeting some people walking through the front doors. Larry prepared himself and walked over once she was free and felt himself hit again by his heart skipping a beat.  
  


She looked stunning, with a silver sequined dress that hugged her body. Sleeveless, it covered up to her neck in a halter style. Her hair was tied back, revealing a pair of silver earrings.  
  


Larry couldn't deny that he almost tripped meeting up to her.  
  


All he could say was this;  
  


"Becca."  
  


That caught her attention, as she turned and her eyes lit up in a mix of happiness...and relief?  
  


"Oh hi, finally you're here!" His fiance exclaimed, "I've been having to stall Richard for half an hour talking to one of the sponsors."  
  


Chuckling, he leaned across and kissed her cheek gently and pulled her into a side hug. "I thought you'd enjoy talking to all these people?" He said in an amused tone.  
  


"You know I'm done with talking, Larry." She sighed heavily, squeezing her hand on his. "I just want to snuggle up and watch a documentary."  
  


"Another night, I promise you, sweetheart." He muttered next to her ear.  
  


Raising her brow, she pointed. "You could have asked Nick to come here."  
  


"Well, you know him. Teenagers and whatnot. He wanted to stay in. Said he was gonna bore himself to death with a fancy dinner." Larry paused when he saw the familiar curly-haired Egyptian from his sight. "Hey, Adonis."  
  


He thanked God that he remembered to call Ahkmenrah by his alternate name. The number of times he's slipped almost got him annoyed at himself, especially when Kai was in the room and they were talking about work plans. The worse thing he's heard (to which Larry discovered just a year ago) was that the exhibits began a wager about him.  
  


Every time Larry slipped and mentioned something about the tablet or their real names, the person who better the closest to the number times would get the first pick for movie night. And apparently: Octavius was winning.  
  


He grumbled, ' _I guess it's Gladiator again next week._ '  
  


The secret pharaoh grinned at them, swerving an incoming waiter with a tray of drinks. Once he stood in front of them, he greeted: "Larry. I've been trying to find you. Teddy asked if we're all ready."  
  


Tapping the device connected to the side of his head, he replied. "Yeah, don't worry. I've got an earpiece ready." Larry's eyes widened when he called out, "Kai."  
  


The Asian man greeted them with a wave and quickly spoke, "Hey Larry. Me and Wea's got everything sorted." He then pointed his finger over to the other side of the planetarium. "I'm gonna be down in the corridor to make sure the rest are ready."  
  


Kai went off to do his job, leaving the trio looking at each other with a secretive language in their eyes. He, Rebecca and Ahkmenrah knew why the young man wanted to head in that direction. A certain Greek woman was preparing her speech with her sisters there...  
  


' _Talk about subtlety_.' He raised his eyebrows.  
  


"It would seem your assistant is working hard," Rebecca commented and inhaled. "Now, I'm going to start drinking when the nerves start."  
  


"It's as if nothing has changed." The pharaoh cheekily inputted.  
  


Rebecca huffed and said, "Go and mingle before I step on your foot with my heel, your majesty."  
  


A toothy grin rested upon Ahkmenrah's face; he winked at Larry - sending him hiding his laugher with a cough. He stopped when he felt his fiance's eyes glared holes at him.  
  


' _Okay. Should stop and be professional now._ ' Larry thought.  
  


"Ever so cheery, Rebecca." He then paused. "On second thought I'm going to follow your request and find some wine."  
  


Ahkmenrah darted off, which Larry felt a bit worried for his Egyptian friend. He seemed less pale and more 'alive' than a few moments before the programme. He only hoped the wine would ease the nerves. As much as he was also worried for him, Larry couldn't help but chuckle at his burst of character.  
  


Even Rebecca seemed amused, quirking a look at him. They both knew why Ahkmenrah seemed a bit upset for tonight. And it all came down to a certain British curator not being able to come to New York for this special night.  
  


"Rebecca."  
  


Coming from the other direction, a tall dark woman walked over to them - a glass of champagne in one hand. He only hoped his staring wasn't obvious, but he couldn't help but admire the woman's beauty. She looked as if she could have been carved by marble, with dark hair braided back in a bun which showed her silver jewellery. She wore a yellow mid-length dress with transparent heels.  
  


As much as her appearance challenged Larry's thoughts, he immediately was drawn by her eyes. Dark and deep, he could feel the room grow quiet and the noise dulled around him.  
  


His heart sped when he heard the sound of a woman's voice ring in his mind.  
  


' ** _Guardian..._** '  
  


Suddenly, Larry was snapped back into reality when Rebecca reached forward and shook the woman's hand.  
  


Rebecca greeted her, "Micarah, so glad to see you."  
  


Dr Micarah Campbell held a small smile, her face somehow glowing under the blue lights of the chandelier. "To you as well." Her eyes then turned to his. "And it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Daley."  
  


There was a second which he panicked. Whilst the inside in his head was running a hundred miles an hour, his body was composed as he nervously shook her hand as well. "Larry is fine." He paused and then wondered, "So you must be Dr Campbell. Rowen spoke of you quite highly."  
  


He quickly regretted what he said.  
  


' _Way to go, Daley._ ' He mentally kicked himself.  
  


But then Dr Campbell's eyes warmed when the mention of her name. "Yes. Rowen is a dear friend of mine alongside Antonio Paladino." She grinned and complimented, "But it is an honour to meet the director of the Night Programme. I have heard such high praise for your work with the museum."  
  


His cheeks grew hot after she said. From the corner of his eye, Rebecca was reciprocating the same feelings - grinning and looking proud of him.  
  


"T-Thanks. You shouldn't really." Larry stammered out, recollecting his words. "It's the actors and actresses here you should thank. They really care about their work and they're really passionate about the programme, so you should be thanking them not me."  
  


Dr Campbell said, "I will let them know after the performance."  
  


His heart felt a bit lifted. At least the chairwoman of the museum was excited for the event, one of the most important people here which they needed their approval in.  
  


"Micarah."  
  


Larry's eyes turned across and found the voice to come from the man behind her.  
  


It was the mayor of New York City: Ian Winterson. The man appeared to be around his early forties, though by how his son was in his twenties - he might be in his fifties. Larry learnt the hard way not to judge people by their looks, considering Rowen was not exactly an eighteen-year-old woman and Ahkmenrah wasn't a twenty-four-year-old man.  
  


On the other hand, the chairwoman didn't move; but he noticed her eyes flash warily. It sent a cold shiver down his spine as the change of her demeanour. Sipping her drink, she didn't give any space for the man as he subtly pushed beside her with a glass held for himself.  
  


Glancing to Rebecca, he was glad he wasn't the only one noticing the quick tension.  
  


"Ian." It was a stagnant tone, neither warm nor cold as she continued to look at Larry and Rebecca. Dr Campbell eyed the man with a plain look, before smiling kindly to them.  
  


' ** _Be careful on what you say, guardian..._** '  
  


Larry blinked and hid his surprise as the voice trailed off.  
  


Taking her leave, the chairwoman nodded. "Of course. Now if you'll excuse me: I'm being ushered to talk to some of the sponsors." She spoke directly to Larry. "Do contact me if you are in need. I believe you have my number."  
  


"Mr Winterson." Rebecca politely spoke, though the tone of her voice dwindled a bit in enthusiasm.  
  


Thankfully, the mayor didn't notice the change in tone and continued, "Ms Hutman, Mr Daley. I just wanted to say congratulations on your work with the museum. Also, to thank you for the opportunity you gave for my son." He said. "You must understand that I'm quite a proud father to him to be rather...happy for his job."  
  


Shaking his head, Larry replied honestly. "Oh no, you don't have to. Kai's a great kid. You know. He and the exhi- actors and actresses get along very well."  
  


He knew he slipped when he saw Rebecca twitch her hand from her clutch.  
  


Though just as Larry was about to add another thing, he heard the young Winterson's voice from his earpiece. Simultaneously, the lights began to dim - indicating for the show to begin.  
  


"Oh, I believe we are starting. I'm going to sit down." Mr Winterson bowed his head to them and spoke, "Good luck to you both."  
  


Larry answered, "Thank you. It's good to meet you, Mr Winterson. Ow." He hissed when he felt her clutch slap his upper arm. Wincing, he rubbed where Rebecca hit her and said, "What?"  
  


Exasperating, she rolled her eyes. "Honestly I wonder how you do it."  
  


"Well, it's worked for over sixty years." He joked, trying to lighten the mood. He then coughed his laughter up when he saw another familiar figure find them. "Hey, Dr McPhee."  
  


The Director was wearing a suit and tie as well, though he seemed more comfortable with wearing it than Larry himself (who still kept adjusting with his sleeve). "Larry. I hope everything is prepared." He drawled.  
  


Reassuring McPhee, he answered. "Yep. All set. Kai's just making sure everyone's behaving at the back."  
  


"Good. Now, I've got to find Dr Campbell." He took a deep breath and quickly rushed towards the direction of the dining area.  
  


Finally, the two were on their own. Though not for long as he heard Sacagawea calling from his earpiece that they were ready. He gave Rebecca an apologetic gaze, which she wished him good luck with a soft kiss.  
  


"I'm going to sit with Ahk." She grinned and said, "Good luck."  
  


Larry placed another kiss on her cheek and murmured into her ear. "Thanks."


	40. A Night of Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hayden Planetarium Show begins...though it doesn't exactly end the way everyone expected it to be.
> 
> During the chaos, Ahkmenrah receives a vision from a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so hear me out. I just discovered what Statistics are on Ao3 and apparently, people have subbed to this story! I never realised this and to be honest I was kinda shook. So thank you so much for that. Things like this just baffle me because sometimes I question myself why I still write this.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is going to be a sort of blend with what happened in the movie and what I want to add on to it. I'm not sure if the real movie they filmed more scenes on it (tbh the whole movie deserved an uncut extended edition) but I just wanted it to really roll-out what happens in various perspectives.
> 
> Okay, enough of me. Enjoy :)

**Ahkmenrah XII  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

Sipping his second glass of wine, Ahkmenrah waited with the rest of the guests for the beginning of the performance. He was surprised that he settled himself between Rebecca and Dr McPhee alongside the rest of the museum staff. He hardly knew any of them by face but were kind enough to flash a small smile to each person as they sat around the round table.  
  


Though, he had to admit that waiting was the most daunting experience he did. Smiling and greeting people was what he was taught as a prince - but it didn't mean it was easy for him. Or in fact: enjoyable. Kahmunrah was the people person between the two of them, having it come naturally to talk to anyone and about anything.  
  


For Ahkmenrah - he was afraid to blurt something out of the blue.  
  


Or perhaps it was the alcohol making him talk.  
  


Maybe he should have stopped after the second glass, but luckily the lights dimmed and everyone began to quieten. The music then began to play, and the orchestral introduction began as he spotted the double doors open.  
  


Entering the front doors was Teddy riding atop of Texas, his head up high. His face showed a mix of confidence and regalness.  
  


Once the music died down, he began to speak; "Since 1869, when I was a mere boy of eleven, this museum has been a shining beacon to our great city. Tonight we'll expand our horizons even further - to the Sun, the Moon, and the stars." The president's voice boomed across the large room. "From our very beginning, mankind has looked to the heavens and given names to what he saw. The constellations. I thought you might like to meet them!"  
  


As his friend gestured towards the ceiling, Ahkmenrah gazed upwards and watched the stars fly up to the dark background.  
  


Like the rest of the museum, the stars and the constellations also were brought to life by the magic of the tablet, dancing around and creating patterns and shapes in the air above them.  
  


A wave of audible gasps muttered around him.  
  


He watched them rehearse many times before, but it never stopped him from being at awe at the beauty of the animated lights, glistening in the dark background. He remembered the first time he saw them come to life, immediately moving and flowing at their own groups and even individuals. Rowen and Ahkmenrah would spend the evenings just watching the constellations create a scene from a story of dance to the rhythm of the music whenever the disco/party night came up.  
  


When the constellations finished their performance, there was a round of applause. He took a quick glance across to Rebecca as she caught his eyes and grinned at him. Ahkmenrah shared the same look, biting his lip to contain his excitement.  
  


After that, music began to play once more and a spotlight came up just a few feet away from Teddy and Texas.  
  


Wearing matching clothing as Calliope, the second eldest Muse held her head up high. In her hand, she held her signature emblem of scrolls.  
  


She introduced herself, "Γεια. I am Clio, one of the Seven Greek Muses. Daughter of Zeus and part of the Ancient Mediterranean Civilisations exhibit alongside the Romans and Egyptians." She opened her arm wide and gestured to where her sisters were jotted about the room. "Alongside my sisters, Calliope and Thalia - the museum has broadened the interests worldwide, extending the knowledge from across the Atlantic to the Americas."  
  


The spotlight turned to the left, where Calliope stood with her stylus and tablet.  
  


"The Hayden Planetarium at the Rose Centre would not have happened without the help of our sponsors and patronage, the board of governors led by our chairwoman: Dr Micarah Campbell. And the promotion of the programme from our mayor Mister Ian Winterson." Calliope smiled, gesturing her hand towards who Ahkmenrah discovered to have been the chairwoman.  
  


There was another round of applause, which he followed as well - remembering the modern sign of appreciation to something or someone.  
  


Ahkmenrah darted his eyes to the unfamiliar woman sitting beside Dr McPhee and saw the deep eyes staring outwards to the rest. Her head was held high, neither arrogant nor snooty. There was grace in her movements, similar to the aura which Rowen had sometimes.  
  


He couldn't help but stare back. In the back of his mind, he felt that he knew her somehow.  
  


It was Thalia's turn to speak, who was the most enthusiastic one of the sisters. "Now, the race for knowledge of the stars have now been highlighted by our prestigious shows." She grinned and clapped her hands. "We would like to start the evening with one of our top performers. From our Animal Kingdoms, Dexter the Capuchin!"  
  


Out of all his four-thousand-or-so years of existing, Ahkmenrah never expected to see an animal perform a trapeze dance in front of an audience.  
  


The Capuchin wore his bow tie, pulling himself up on the ribbons clutched around his arms. The intense music made his heart leap until Dexter extended his arms and posed.  
  


There was a round of applause once more and Ahkmenrah glanced over to Rebecca and McPhee, who were both amazed and pleased.  
  


He thought with a hint of sadness, ' _I wish you were here, Rowen._ '  
  


There was another demonstration from the Greek Muses, playing a gentle tune on the harp and lyre before Teddy came afterwards and bowed towards the audience.  
  


"We thank you for your patronage, to all our sponsors and benefactors for giving the museum this opportunity to-"  
  


Teddy froze.   
  


He jittered his words.  
  


Ahkmenrah furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head in confusion. What in Ra's name was he doing? He was about to lean towards Rebecca and ask what was happening until he suddenly felt a large pang in the back of his head. A ringing sound roared into his ears as his vision blurred.  
  


He blinked many times to try and regain his sight, though it didn't help as there was then a crash of screams.  
  


Ahkmenrah grasped the edge of the table and gritted his teeth from inhaling his breath. With shaking hands, he tried to grab Rebecca's hand but instead found himself being pulled up.  
  


The curator's voice was so distant to him.  
  


"Ahk?"  
  


He shuddered a breath.  
  


"You okay? Ahk!"  
  


A set of small arms pulled him upwards, and he staggered into Rebecca's arms. From the limited view, he saw Attila running around with his Huns. There was a battle cry alongside the roar of the tigers and lions. He could hear the squealing of Dexter and...was that Sacagawea throwing what seemed to be a spear towards _them_.  
  


Rebecca shouted, "Get down!"  
  


Instantly, she tugged him down to the ground, and his right arm hit the marble floor with a thud. He felt the pain rip up his side and Ahkmenrah groaned. His scrunched his eyes and tried to roll back up to his feet. Toes curling to hide the agony, he clutched his hand over Rebecca's and tried to cover her from the incoming ceramic pieces.  
  


He hissed as he felt something pierce his arm. It must have been a broken bit of glass, as he scraped the tiny pieces away and saw Rebecca's silhouette hugging the table leg.  
  


"Once more unto the breach, dear friends!"  
  


Ahkmenrah sighed in relief when he now could see partially what was occurring above them. The civil war soldiers alongside the animals and Hun were rampaging, destroying the tables and decoration. Food being chucked across the table.  
  


' _This cannot be happening right now!_ ' Ahkmenrah put the two pieces together. ' _The Tablet is doing this...something is definitely wrong-argh!'  
  
_

Rebecca screamed as they heard a thud above them. He glanced out from the table and saw the shadows.  
  


From the outline, he recognised immediately that it was Sacagawea.  
  


There was another round of shrieks from around them. Ahkmenrah ushered Rebecca out of the table and she obliged silently.   
  


"We've got to get out of here!" She called out to him and yanked him out of his growing unconsciousness.  
  


However, somehow he sensed the arrow that was pointed at them.  
  


When Rebecca and him turned, they saw Sacagawea's unfazed expression at them. Stern dark eyes as drew her bow back.  
  


"Sac, it's us!" Rebecca's voice wavered as she called out.  
  


However, Sacagawea's gaze darkened as he spotted her finger twitch against the string.  
  


Their Native American friend didn't know them at all.  
  


Ahkmenrah knew what was coming and shoved Rebecca out from in front. The arrow barely shot past them, as it missed a few inches from their position. When he looked back to Sacagawea, she only turned to the sound of Teddy's cry and leapt off the table.  
  


He wanted to help them, knock some sense but he knew well enough that his own state won't keep him awake for long. Harder and harder, Ahkmenrah struggled to keep up. He was slipping from reality and death, seeing the dark shadows grow around him.  
  


Out of all the chaos, he still heard Larry shout to them, "Guys stop! Stop it!"  
  


It didn't seem to have any effect, as he waded through the tables and overthrown chairs. His hands tried to find the nearest arm but found Rebecca gone from his grasp. He called out her name but no one responded.  
  


Ahkmenrah felt like he was dying again, feeling the pierce of the blade at his back. At that thought, a sharp sting erupted up his spine - pulling his breath away as he lurched forward and fell straight onto the floor before he could stop himself.  
  


" ** _Ahkmenrah..._** "  
  


_His surroundings changed in a quick blink.  
  
_

_He was standing what seemed to be sand. His fingers curled against the coarse material. Ahkmenrah rushed to sway to his feet, feeling the grains enter the gaps of his shoes. He was in a desert. No: the desert. The Red Land which his tutor always told stories about during their lessons. How the sun burnt your skin in just mere minutes; how your mouth grows dry as you beg for water.  
  
_

_When his head turned upwards to the shadow in front - he bit back a gasp. As standing several feet in front of him - was his sister-in-law.  
  
_

_Hetepheres' white dress flowed around her body, her black hair adorned with golden pins. Her lips red and her eye lined with dark kohl as it matched the crown over her head. She appeared to be just like he once saw her before: a queen.  
  
_

_A smile graced Hetepheres' lips, paired with her kind soft eyes. His mouth parted, uncertain if what he was seeing was actually real or in his head.  
  
_

_"_ **_Of course it is in your head, Ahkmen,_ ** _" Hetepheres spoke.  
  
_

_The nickname echoed around him. The name which he'd been called all those years ago which faded away. He preferred his new nickname better when Rowen first called him Ahk at the university. But the name Ahkmen was something which opened an old hall of memories in the back of his head.  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah asked out loud to her, "_ **_What is happening?_ ** _" He pried, "_ **_Where...Why am I here?_ ** _"  
  
_

" ** _The end has come._** "  
  


_Hetepheres replied; her voice sonorous and eloquent which rung into his ears.  
  
_

_"_ **_What do you mean?_ ** _" Ahkmenrah questioned.  
  
_

" ** _You must find them..._** "  
  


_In a mix of frustration and confusion, he asked: "_ **_Find what?_ ** _"  
  
_

_Hetepheres' gold eyes glowed, almost burning under the hot sun. She opened her mouth to speak, but it felt to him that the voice was coming from all directions.  
  
_

" _ **Find him, Ahkmenrah**._"  
  


_The wind began to pick up, and another voice rang in his ears.  
  
_

" ** _They are coming..._** "  
  


_He squinted his eyes from the sand being picked up. The storm grew and grew until he scrunched his eyes shut and saw Hetepheres disappear among the desert and sand.  
  
_

"Sir? Are you alright?"  
  


When his vision cleared slightly, he found himself standing behind a pillar at the entrance of the planetarium. A hand place on his shoulder as Ahkmenrah turned to find the voice. He wasn't sure who it was, no matter how he focused his mind to depict. But by the voice, it seemed concerned either way but sounded unfamiliar to him.  
  


"I am fine." He held his hand out to assure her and nodded, "But I must thank you for assisting me...Miss?"  
  


" ** _Names for later, young pharaoh_**." The words spoken in his native tongue threw him back, and he gaped at her in shock.  
  


"What..."  
  


He slurred his words, a tone of shock between his constant need to find his feet.  
  


However, it was soon enough that he felt another wave of nausea from his body. He felt his body begin to fail and weaken. Legs locking, he hacked up the air as he stumbled down to the floor. Luckily, a pair of arms grabbed his head and shoulders in time.  
  


The person lowered him to the ground, perching his head onto something hard. Their voice murmured into his ear, " ** _I cannot heal you but I may seek your shelter until this passes._** "  
  


"How..." Ahkmenrah trailed, only seeing the outline of the figure above him.  
  


" ** _Sleep Ahkmenrah._** " They softly spoke, " ** _We will meet again._** "  
  


His sight then dwindled into blackness, swirling himself down in the pit of his mind and entering his dreams once more.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXVI  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

The moment the night turned into a chaotic mess was the same time Larry got the worse headache ever in his entire life.  
  


It was as if someone was screaming right next to his ear, filling his head with an inhuman screech. Like metal scraping harsh concrete. Layers and layers of voices called out in a language he couldn't understand. Some of the voices were familiar, distorted and yet similar to the ones from his friends.  
  


It only stopped when he felt Dexter pounced right into his face and wrestled him. He yanked the capuchin off and glared at the grinning mammal. But it wasn't long until another force entered the planetarium.  
  


Being thrown back to his surroundings was an understatement when he heard a large roar echo the hall. Larry staggered back, trying to stop Rexy from hurting the last people running out of the planetarium. But before he could do so, the screeching returned. He took his time to compose himself, holding his head in his hands as he hissed in pain.  
  


The screaming only stopped for a bit when he felt a hard structure whack against his abdomen, sending him flying in a silent cry in the air. The air in his lungs was knocked out the moment his spine impacted the table. His scrunched his eyes once more, trying to focus his head again.  
  


A groan escaped his lips as he flexed his fingers. A ray of colourful curse words went through his head as a surge of pain went up to his spine and up to his head. ' _Well at least the screams are gone,_ ' He thought.  
  


Flickering his eyes open, Larry took his time to get his breath back again before sitting up. By the time Larry got up, all the exhibits had stopped attacking.  
  


' _What the fuck_.' Was all he could think.  
  


The whole planetarium was in carnage.   
  


However, the first thought that popped into his head was the most important thing.  
  


"Becca? Becca!" He shouted, trying to search for any indication for her.  
  


"Here!"  
  


Larry's eyes immediately flicked to the voice, and he quickly clambered over the broken glass, plates and fallen chairs to the raised hand by the drinks bar. When he got there, he saw a figure pop out from under the long table. There were tipped glasses everywhere, with drinks spilt over. It was going to take ages to mop this all up...  
  


When he saw the familiar face, Larry raced towards her and pulled Rebecca into a tight embrace. Her head nuzzled right onto his chest, knowing she could probably hear his heart pounding against his ribs. Rebecca's breaths slowed down as he smoothened her hair, whispering her that she was fine and that it was over.  
  


"Oh thank god you're okay," Larry muttered.  
  


He sighed in relief, squeezing his eyes shut as he perched his head over her shoulder. He would have never forgiven himself if he found her hurt after what happened. He was stupid enough to not go and find her in the first place, slapping himself mentally for not thinking straight - even if he was experiencing something completely out of the blue as well.  
  


Larry pressed his lips on her forehead, before bringing his nose to hers and leaned forward. After a minute of letting him and Rebecca calm down, she pulled away and sniffed.  
  


"I'm fine, I'm fine..." She told him as she brushed some food off her dress. "Just some scratches and bruises."  
  


Larry stared at her, spotting the red marks grazed over her right cheek. There was already a bruise forming on her arm as well as the mess of her hair. But even so, all he cared that she was alright and didn't appear in pain.  
  


"I thought you left with the others," He wondered and regretted the twinge of frustration in his voice. In one part, Larry was secretly furious that Rebecca hadn't run off with McPhee and the rest of the quests. At least then, he would know she was safe from the rest of the exhibits.  
  


' _But no, you chose the woman who would rather save a prize artefact and almost get hurt in the process_ ,' Larry thought to himself. He shouldn't be surprised at all that he picked someone similar to the job he had. ' _Well...I don't think I'll have this job any longer with the all the shit that's just happened.'  
  
_

"I was but Ahk was-" Rebecca froze and then turned around, her voice becoming frantic. "Where's Ahk? Where is he?"  
  


He let go of her, and the two began searching for their Egyptian friend in the mess. Many of the exhibits just stood about, as if it was the first time they woke up and came to life. He ignored the moans and questions being murmured as he flicked the covers off the tables. However, out of all tables: Larry hadn't seen Ahkmenrah at all.  
  


He slapped his forehead and wiped the sweat off. Where the heck was he? Did he get hurt? Hell...did someone take him?  
  


Larry swore, ' _Fuck. I hope no one took him!_ '  
  


"What in Hades...happened?" Thalia cut his thoughts off when she asked loudly.  
  


The Greek Muse looked a little disgruntled. Apart from the messy hair and stained dress - Thalia looked fine as well as Clio who he found leaning against the wall. As for Calliope, he noticed the blonde hair peeking out in the distance, which reminded him of someone.  
  


"Calli, where'd Kai go?" Larry asked the Greek muse, who he saw appear from the 'special effects' box.  
  


One thing's for sure: he only hoped the kid hadn't hurt himself through that shit. If the mayor discovered his son with a hair misplaced, Larry would be running for the hills.  
  


"I don't know." She replied, and her jaw dropped when she looked around. Calliope exclaimed, "Why is it a mess?"  
  


Larry furrowed his eyebrows back at her. Did she not realise what happened at all? Though what seemed to be oddest things, each exhibit appeared delirious and confused about their surroundings. Especially Rexy, who was stood in the middle of the planetarium with his skull head tilted at the side.  
  


At the buffet area, Attila and the Huns were shaking their heads in confusion. A surprise expression littered over their faces as they looked at their weapons and dirty clothes. Even Sacagawea, who was inspecting what she was carrying, wore a face of confusion on her. In her hands were a bow and arrow.  
  


His heart grew cold as Larry swallowed down the bile. He hoped she hadn't shot anyone.  
  


Actually: he hoped she didn't hit anyone - period.  
  


"Is everybody okay?" He shouted, earning several grunts and nods at him. Larry let another tired breath before spotting a head pop out of the rubble.  
  


"Larry! Over here!"  
  


He spun around and spotted Rebecca crouching by one of the pillars. Before he went over, he saw Teddy approach him - a guilty expression already lingering on his face. Larry's heart skipped a beat as he remembered the feeling when the president had forgotten him.  
  


Teddy's rifle aimed over his chest.  
  


At instinct then, Larry was almost sure he was about to pull the trigger as he rose his hands. That Teddy didn't know him at all and didn't hesitate to shoot him until he dodged the chance - snatching the rifle out of the president's hands and tossing it to the ground.  
  


' _Snap out of it, Daley_.' He told himself. ' _Remember, it wasn't him. He wasn't himself_.' But even then, staring at Teddy now reminded him of what he had just done - no matter how Larry removed the thought out of his head.  
  


Instead, Larry ordered him. "Teddy. Get everyone in the front entrance."  
  


The president didn't hesitate, only quietly nodding back to him and began telling the rest of the exhibits to move out of the planetarium and into the main part of the museum. No one protested, simply following the president's orders to move and get everyone together. They filed out of the planetarium, leaving Larry rushing to Rebecca's side.  
  


Once he got there, he bit back a gasp. There were little droplets on the marble floor, and his sleeve stained red. Larry let another curse before slinging the pharaoh's arm around his neck. With the help of Rebecca, the two carried Ahkmenrah towards the direction the exhibits went to.  
  


They arrived at the main entrance and he shouldn't be surprised by the echoes of gasps and shrieks when they saw Ahkmenrah unconscious in their arms.  
  


He lowered the pharaoh down on the bench, Ahkmenrah's head falling straight against the wall. Eyelids closed, Larry pressed two fingers over his neck. He couldn't find a pulse.  
  


Rebecca spoke, "You do know he's dead right?"  
  


"Right." Larry pulled away before shaking his shoulder. "Ahk? Hey, bud..."  
  


A groan came out of Ahkmenrah's mouth.   
  


The two let out a sigh in relief.  
  


When he opened his eyes, Ahkmenrah peered them and adjusted from the light. Larry took a step back, but then immediately stepped forward as the pharaoh tried to stand up from his position.  
  


By the sound of shuffling feet, everyone wanted to ask if Ahkmenrah was alright.  
  


"Don't crowd him," Rebecca told the rest, and asked the exhibits to sit on the staircase and wait.  
  


Larry agreed and spoke. "Rebecca's right, guys."  
  


The Greek Muses, the Huns and the Neanderthals moved away and went over to sit where they were told.  
  


"Ughh my head." Ahkmenrah moaned, rubbing his temples slowly.  
  


Larry inhaled sharply. "Yeah, you hit your head quite badly," He said and looked at Rebecca. The two silently agreed not to tell him _where_ they found his body, knowing it was best not to worry Rowen.  
  


' _Oh God..._ ' Larry internally winced. ' _When Rowen hears about this..._ '  
  


"What...what happened?" Ahkmenrah murmured, letting another wince as he rolled his shoulders back.  
  


Larry drawled out a whistle before awkwardly answering, "Well if you want the short answer: we kinda bamboozled the whole place."  
  


The pharaoh's head turned to him, his face pale by several shades. Larry didn't say it out loud, but Ahkmenrah looked like he was the one that got wrestled by Dexter.  
  


"Easy there, don't stand up too quickly." Larry supported Ahkmenrah as he pulled him up with Sacagawea. "You'll hurt your head."  
  


Ahkmenrah let out a wince, his hand rushing to hold is head.  
  


"Ahk, are you alright?" She asked, never letting go of the pharaoh's arm.  
  


He turned to her and gave her a reassuring nod. "I am fine, Sac." Ahkmenrah wondered, "But what happened? Why did you and Attila..."  
  


"I am really sorry, Ahk." She closed her eyes, lowering her head in shame. "I-"  
  


"I know, my friend." He told her, pulling her into a hug. "It is not your fault."  
  


"I wasn't myself. I-I didn't know what came over me." Sacagawea said with true honesty. Then she pulled away from Ahkmenrah and gasped. "And I am sorry to you as well, Rebecca. I almost shot you!"  
  


The Native American woman burst into tears as her hands flew over her head - hiding her face.  
  


"It's okay, Sac." Ahkmenrah went to take her hands and cupped them with his. He soothed her back, "I'm only glad everyone got out unscathed. Or not..."  
  


"Ahk, your arm."  
  


He answered, "Not to worry, Just some broken glass. I'll be fine once it's wrapped."  
  


Larry nodded stiffly, but both Rebecca and Sacagawea didn't seem convinced on how Ahkmenrah simply brushed it off. He's seen how Ahkmenrah reacted when Rowen got hurt during the Battle of the Smithsonian, and how she would protest that it wasn't that bad until she had no choice but sit in defeat. Stubborn at the fault, the two shared the trait that most would consider being the bain of their life.  
  


It wasn't another nudge that Ahkmenrah finally agreed to be tended. Rebecca told him that he needed to tended so his body wouldn't be too 'mucked up' when Ahkmenrah turns back into a dead corpse (which Larry is still trying to get his head around after eight years that his friend was in fact dead). They found the nearest first aid kit once the Hayden Planetarium shut down in emergency and tended Ahkmenrahas well as Rebecca.  
  


He was even more horrified when Rebecca was hurt, though relieved it wasn't as bad as what Ahkmenrah faced. The moment the adrenaline died down, his panic rose. It was why he was coddling Rebecca, trying to make sure she was safe until she slapped his shoulder to cut him out.  
  


Larry muttered an apology and sighed. Okay, perhaps he was being too much.  
  


Though his frustration and confusion could not match the anger and confusion that radiated from Dr McPhee. The moment the Director entered the room, you could have heard a pin drop.  
  


"So care to tell me what happened?" He tapped his foot impatiently as he queried. "All of you-"  
  


Everyone stayed silent.  
  


However, Larry was the first to speak up. "Dr McPhee-"  
  


Everyone began to speak at the same time, trying to apologise to him.  
  


"Wait. No. Enough!" McPhee snapped.  
  


Larry was about to speak, but he felt a sudden tug from his sleeve. In the corner of his eye, Rebecca shook her head and pursed her lips.  
  


"I'm going to send Winterson home with his father before anything else happens," McPhee said irritable and glared at them. His eyes then darted to Rebecca and said, "Rebecca."  
  


He spun around and stalked back to the planetarium. Larry could only assume that it was his indication for Rebecca to follow. He looked over to his fiancee and Rebecca gave him a curt nod.  
  


"I'll be back." She told everyone, placing a quick kiss on his lips before rushing up to try and calm their director down.  
  


Once the two left the room, Larry let a frustrating snarl. He wanted to tug his hair out and scream. Eight years as a night guard and these magic shenanigans decided to actually have an issue on the most important night. Larry couldn't blame them entirely; something was definitely not right. Especially if he was experiencing the same thing.  
  


But he wasn't going to let the exhibits know, it would be another thing they'll be worried about. As much as it might be important, Larry knew that the exhibits came first before him.  
  


"Guys, what was going on out there? Seriously, what were you thinking?" He asked them. "Attila."  
  


The Hun in question lifted his head to him.  
  


"What were you doing to that dolphin, man?" He exclaimed, waving his hands. "It's a dolphin! One of the most peaceful creatures on earth...a-and you're hacking into it like it was _the Cove_ or something!"  
  


Guilt stretched over the Hun's face sent Larry's heart plummeting. Maybe he was being too harsh. ' _God, please don't give me the sad puppy eyes._ '  
  


"Did you see the look on Regis Philbin's face?" Larry questioned.  
  


Attila's face formed dismay as he whispered, "Reeju?"  
  


"Yeah, Reeju." He repeated and then turned to the man next to him. "And Teddy, what were you doing pointing a gun at me?"  
  


"Forgive me, Lawrence. I don't know what came over me." Teddy admitted guiltily, his eyes trying to look at Larry in the eye but quickly darted away.  
  


He approached the president and asked him quietly, "Do you even remember that?"  
  


"Not at all." Teddy shook his head.  
  


He didn't understand at all. How could they not remember what they did to the planetarium?  
  


Ahkmenrah remembered, considering how his eyes were slightly wary when Sacagawea found him unconscious. Out of all the exhibits, no one can compete between the sibling bond Ahkmenrah and Sacagawea had. The two were inseparable when it came to caring for each other. They looked out for each other and confided with one another. That's why Larry could understand how the guilt was eating Sacagawea alive when she saw Ahkmenrah injured.  
  


He was about to speak to the rest of the exhibits until he felt something wet hit his hand. Glancing up, he gritted his teeth at the mammal standing on the bannister.  
  


"Dexter, stop! Do you want diapers again?" Larry snapped.  
  


The capuchin took a step back, whimpering almost after he shouted at him. Larry still had scratches and cuts after Dexter tried to grapple his face and attack him with his claws, fueling the stress into anger. He threw the monkey down onto the ground after Dexter wrestled him for a good half a minute. And he was glad it wasn't for long or else his nose would have broke.  
  


That memory was still fresh in his mind, making his hands curl into a fist as he gave an annoyed look at the capuchin.  
  


"Ease up on the reins there, boss. Can't you see, he feels terrible!" Jedediah cried, "Hell, we all do!"  
  


He paused and glanced back to the group.  
  


Jedediah bemoaned, "We feel awful!"  
  


"Something took hold of us, like an evil spell which bewitched us!" Octavius followed, earning some nods and murmurs.  
  


"Yeah, like we just weren't ourselves," Jedediah said at their defence and there was a rouse of nods and hums of agreement.  
  


With another sigh, Larry rubbed his forehead and tapped his foot. He already knew what he needed to do. Though he knew it wouldn't be fair at all to do what he was about to do. 'S _he's going to freak out when she finds out._ ' He gulped. When he stared at everyone, he found his eyes locking to the pharaoh.  
  


Ahkmenrah gave him a look and spoke, "Larry. I think it's time."  
  


The pharaoh stared at him with such piercing eyes that he might've just drilled two holes through his eye sockets. Larry swallowed his protest and instead threw a large hefty sigh in defeat. He then took his phone out and scrolled down to find her contacts.  
  


As he pressed the icon, it took a few seconds until the phone rang.  
  


"Time for what?" Thalia questioned, nudging her sister's shoulder. Both Clio and Thalia began to bicker whilst Calliope let out an exasperated noise and told them to shut up.  
  


Octavius also joined the murmurs and asked, "Shhh, who's he calling?"  
  


"Obviously Gigantress."  
  


"Lady Rowen? But isn't she in London?"  
  


There are several more rings as Larry spoke, "It's the middle of the night, she's not going to pick up-"  
  


Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow.  
  


"Hello?"  
  


All faces perked up at the familial tone of their friend. Larry spotted a gentle smirk resting on the pharaoh's lips whilst Sacagawea and Teddy gave each other smiles. He shook his head in disbelief and bemusement before responding.  
  


"Hi." Larry began, licking his lips. "Hey Rowen, I didn't wake you up, right?"  
  


There was a shuffling sound through the phone, "No. Not at all."  
  


"Good, good..."  
  


There was another pause before she spoke. "But I did receive a call from Rebecca saying that you would be planning to call me...something about the news."  
  


His head flashed right around to Ahkmenrah, Sacagawea and Teddy. All three gave each other various looks of dread and worry. They turned to him, where his stomach already plummeted and his heart paused. What was he going to say to her?  
  


Larry covered his phone with hand and mouthed to the three. 'What do I say?'  
  


Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows and nudged his chin, indicating that he should probably tell the truth. The same went with Teddy and Sacagawea, both nodding their heads and eyed the phone in his hand.  
  


With a heavy exhale, he uncovered the phone and slowly said, "Shit, right um...so the tablet."  
  


"What about it? It's okay, right? It hasn't been stolen?" Rowen's tone of panic sent his heart racing.  
  


He shook his head and replied, "No! No, no...It's still here." Larry paused, "But uh-"  
  


Out of nowhere, a hand snatched the phone off him. He gaped back when he found Ahkmenrah holding the phone and began talking through.  
  


The pharaoh answered for him instead, "What Larry is saying is that the tablet is turning green, and affecting us."  
  


Larry gave him a raised brow to which he got another silent gesture from Ahkmenrah that said, 'You were stalling, and you meant it.'  
  


There was another quiet pause.  
  


"Oh, hello. Ahk?" Rowen greeted firstly, her tone slightly surprised and amused.  
  


Larry saw Ahkmenrah's face relax at her voice.  
  


Her voice then turned serious again as she asked, "And Green?... As in?"  
  


Larry went closer to Ahkmenrah, just as Teddy placed a gloved hand over Ahkmenrah's shoulder.  
  


"Corrosion by the looks of the tablet, my dear." The former president questioned Ahkmenrah, "When did it appear to start, my boy?"  
  


"I only saw it tonight, actually," Ahkmenrah said which seemed true by ear. "But the effects began just before the opening of the planetarium."  
  


Rowen said, "Oh right, the opening. Wait, let me turn on the tele..."  
  


There was another few seconds of shuffling and a crackling sound with clicks. Larry darted his eyes over to Ahkmenrah, who was rolling on the heels of his feet. Sacagawea was whispering to Teddy which he couldn't hear though could tell it seemed important to him as Teddy's eyes found Larry's.  
  


Teddy mouthed back, 'Wadjet Key.'  
  


His eyebrows creased into confusion for a second until they lifted in realisation. Larry nodded back to him and was prepared to but in.  
  


However, there was a muffled noise from the background. Rowen said, "Well, you are not wrong about it affecting you all." She asked, "Are you all alright?"  
  


It was then everyone Larry glanced across the group of exhibits. All looking deflated and tired but still listening in carefully. However, it would seem Ahkmenrah appeared the worse for wear. With a cut on his arm and his whole suit a mess - it seemed he got trampled by a stampede.  
  


' _Probably don't mention that to Rowen,_ ' He said to himself. ' _She's not going to like it when she finds out her boyfriend got almost shot and stood on._ '  
  


Larry spoke, "Yeah, just a scare that's all."  
  


"Hmm..."  
  


Ahkmenrah frowned. "Rowen?"  
  


"Hmm? No, I'm just trying to think about the possibilities of what's happening. The magic must be corresponding to the souls I guess." She continued, "So the taint on the tablet must be affecting how the magic is supporting the bodies."  
  


"How about your key?" Larry inputted. "It's not turning green is it?"  
  


"...No. It's the same as before."  
  


Humming, Ahkmenrah then perked up and said, "I think a good way is to speak to my parents. They know the tablet better."  
  


There was a murmur of agreement around the rest of the exhibits. Both Sacagawea and Teddy seemed to be approved by the idea whilst Larry grinned and patted the pharaoh's shoulder gently.  
  


"Good thinking, my boy." Teddy praised.  
  


Rowen answered, "I'll send an enquiry so you'll have access." She told them, "Give me tomorrow to send a formal letter to the board. I'm sure I could slip you in as a conservation project."  
  


Kindly, Larry replied. "Thank you, Ro. We're grateful. I'm sorry we kinda woke you up and-"  
  


"No-no. It's fine." He imagined her shaking her head. Knowing Rowen too well, Larry knew she was half-ass lying. "I-uh wasn't asleep. Work and such..."  
  


Ahkmenrah and he gave each other worried glances. By the tone of her voice, they only assumed the worse on what's been going on. Especially for Ahkmenrah, who was more worried at the voice of his partner than his own wellbeing.  
  


"Well, get some sleep alright?" Larry said sincerely. He then piped in a joke, "Can't be having our immortal curator sleeping to save an ancient artefact."  
  


Another chuckle came from their friend once she said her farewell. "Indeed. I'll contact you in the morning. Bye, everyone."  
  


Hanging up the phone, Ahkmenrah passed the phone back to him and Larry thanked him. He decided that it was best to give the exhibits some time to calm down from being shaken up. He could only think how bad the clean up is going to be. At the end of the night, Larry might as well have sighed throughout the whole deal like a weeping actress from a play.  
  


So once he got told the rest of the exhibits, he made sure Ahkmenrah was fine to walk back with Sacagawea and Teddy whilst he took the Muses to try and sort the planetarium out.


	41. Taking a Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst waiting for Rowena's response from the British Museum, Larry and Rebecca try to think of some way to help the exhibits.  
> So for Larry, he seeks out the last person that could help him know more answers.
> 
> As well as this, Kai Winterson doubts his own allegiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Minor Death Scene. No mentions of blood.
> 
> Welcome back and so the story continues. Nothing really interesting to say but just another thank you for your patience. Ngl, Larry's not going to be in the best state this chapter and that's what I'm aiming for. Scaring my character one chapter at a time. :) 
> 
> We also got a new PoV to discover, and probably the only one we'll get assuming I'm not going to change any of the planned chapters ahead.
> 
> Hope you have a lovely day/evening.

** Larry XXVII  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

When they got back late in the night to their apartment, Larry and Rebecca were met with a party. A party which Nick decided to host out of the blue.  
  


Larry now realised as to why his son didn't want to go to the Museum Event tonight, using the whole night as a way to take advantage of the apartment. Nevertheless, it didn't work since the two adults got back earlier than they were expecting. McPhee had screamed at him through the phone before they unlocked the door to find dozens of teenagers raving in their living room.  
  


He was not impressed with Nick at all - who he found riling the people up with the DJ mixer and the sound of music blasting through the large speakers. The island was littered with alcoholic drinks and red cups. Some bowls of snacks and sweets scattered from the coffee table to the floor.  
  


It was a mess.  
  


Another mess which Larry was not going to have a deal with to clean up.  
  


The first thing he did was tell Nick to turn off the music. The next thing he knew, Larry was telling everyone to get out and go home. As much as he was worried at some of the teenagers going home, Larry was tired, irritated and not in the mood for taking responsibility with other kids. He already had the museum to deal with.  
  


His son didn't even help at all, only frustrating both him and Rebecca for revealing that he hadn't applied for college at all. Nick wanted to take a gap year, to go and DJ in Ibiza out of all places. Larry thought he raised his son better than this. He thought that after being at the museum as the Night Programme Coordinator and stable income to help his family, Nick would have gone to university and finally pursue a future that wasn't like his own.  
  


Larry wasn't going to have this conversation, telling Nick to start cleaning up whilst Rebecca and he would go to sleep. His son was quiet about it.  
  


Several hours later, when the sun rose and the weekend began, Larry trudged into the kitchen to discover Rebecca beginning breakfast. He placed a peck on her cheek, mumbling a quick morning before flicking the coffee machine on the way to the island.  
  


His head would have hit the surface hadn't he caught it with his hands. Larry yawned, rubbing his face with a disgruntled gesture.  
  


Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, before approaching him at the table. "Morning, you okay?" She asked with a concerned tone.  
  


"The fact that our job is on the line..." He sighed and thanked her for passing the mug. Larry shook his head and murmured, "I really don't know anymore."  
  


"There must be someone that we could go to." Rebecca urged him, exhaling sharply. "We can't just wait for Rowen to respond to us and get back."  
  


"Who then? He asked back, "No one knows the truth other than us and McPhee. And he's already having most of the backlash thrown at him."  
  


"...You know who I'm talking about." She replied as she bit her lip.  
  


He creased his eyebrows, trying to line his mind to what she was referring to.  
  


Suddenly, Larry froze.  
  


He then quickly turned to her with a gawking expression.  
  


Rebecca didn't bat an eye.  
  


"Him?" He gave her a double-take. He stammered, "You mean..."  
  


His fiancee raised an eyebrow and said, "Who else am I referring to?"  
  


Larry hissed, burning his tongue at the hot coffee. After he blew and took a sip, he answered back. "That's taking a big risk, Becca." He continued, "He's part of the cult that wants the tablet; what if we're playing into his trap?"  
  


"You said that he hasn't been in contact with them for decades." She argued back. "I'm sure they wouldn't be monitoring him."  
  


"You just jinxed it." Larry snorted, sending a side grin back at her.  
  


Rolling her eyes, Rebecca went back to frying the eggs in the pan. The scent of food gave Larry a mix of ease and nausea, the latter due to the number of drinks he's had last night after Nick and Rebecca went to bed.  
  


He already thought about the whole situation a few hours ago. He couldn't sleep: with most of his mind still reeling in what happened. The exhibits going 'crazy' wouldn't be the best way to describe. And describing the exhibits being 'feral' made Larry's back curl in discomfort. But he could still feel the head of the gun aimed at him, Teddy's confused and stern face at him. Even seeing Attila and the Huns breaking and destroying the tables and decorations made him wince at the sound of glasses shattering. Dexter almost stabbing someone with a kebab stick...  
  


The recurring moments of the Planetarium only triggered what Larry had been dreaming for the past six months. The voices in his head telling him things; things about the gods and mythology of Egypt. His shared experience of being this woman thousand of years ago. The screams of people in his head almost had the same tone as what the woman in his dreams had.  
  


Maybe they were all linked together. His weird dreams, the tablet corroding - and only one other person seems to probably know more was Cecil Fredricks himself. The former night guard has been with the tablet ever since it came to New York, so it was appropriate to assume he would have known anything else that's happened to it. Has it corroded before? If so, how did they fix it?  
  


But then his rational side told Larry that going to Cecil to try and gain some information would lead to risking him with this secret organisation. It had been years since he'd last saw the elderly man and didn't really know what he's been doing between the times of him being bailed out of jail and going to the care home he now lived in. Does he still remember Larry all this time? And would Cecil's alliance still be with the people looking for the tablet?  
  


"Larry."  
  


He blinked several times before fixating his eyes to hers.  
  


Larry opened his mouth to speak, but the moment he began - he spotted a figure walk past the corridor. He was glad it was the weekend anyway, but it also meant Nick looked to be staying at home. Rebecca stayed quiet as well, the two waiting for his son to pass. They then heard a door shut close, hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom.  
  


Rebecca gave him a worried glance, quietly speaking. "If this...organisation is dangerous, then the government should have already known about it surely?"  
  


He took another breath and stretched, hitting his back on the seat. Rebecca had a point. Maybe they could alert the FBI or the authorities about it, maybe call it a group of terrorists.  
  


' _But you don't have any evidence if they're going to potentially hurt people. You can't just call them up and say: 'Hey, so these bunch of people have been working underground was thousands of years and might use magic to reign terror people! They'll totally believe that!''_ Larry chortled in his head. ' _And if they did, they might think we're a threat or the tablet might be a threat! Ahk and Rowen aren't going to be happy at all if the government takes it away. Hell, the museum won't like it at all!_ '  
  


He would be risking the museum as well. More importantly: Ahkmenrah and Rowena. Larry remembered from five years back, Khafre telling him and Rowen that they were Heka Guardians and that Nephthys chose him apparently. After they threw that asshole back into the underworld, he, Ahkmenrah and Rowen began their research for anything about Heka Guardians.  
  


However, nothing seemed to mention anything to do with it. And only Heka was referred to as one of the Egyptian Goddesses.  
  


Rebecca didn't understand the danger he would be putting them all in. He would be risking her and Nicky because of him. ' _Or maybe she does_ ,' Larry thought. ' _And maybe it is the best way_.' He was fighting between his mind and heart, not knowing which one was the best.  
  


Even then, how could they find who the enemy was? Larry remembered from Rowena that being a spy meant trying to blend into the crowd - hiding in plain sight. Thousands of years, they might as well as established their own underground network.  
  


"What if they've grown, and they've somehow integrated with life?" He wondered, shaking his head in his hands. "This is messed up....I-I just can't risk it."  
  


Rebecca pursed her lips with thought. After turning the hob off and plating the food on a large platter, she rushed out of the main kitchen and living room. He furrowed his eyebrows. Where did she go? Shrugging it off, he set the island table for breakfast with some plates and cutlery and began taking some eggs, bacon and toast onto his plate. Just as he sat down, the historian returned - with a beige file in her hand.  
  


"Then visit him with this," Rebecca said, handing it to him across the table.  
  


Taking it, he skimmed over the front of the cover and saw a set of initials stamped on the top of the file. Cecil Fredricks' files more specifically.  
  


Larry looked up to her and asked, "Why do you have this?"  
  


She shrugged and explained, "It was left along with Gus and Reginald's files; legal stuff and all. Richard-"  
  


"McPhee." Larry pointed.  
  


"I think we both passed calling him McPhee." She gave him an amused look.  
  


After what happened last night, Larry knew he wasn't going to calling the Director by their first name basis. He answered, "I'm not calling him Richard. Just...no."  
  


"As I was saying," Rebecca focused him back to the subject, and told him: "Just say they're the last of his documents after working at the museum. You want to just visit him and talk how he's doing for the past few years. You'll think of the details I assure you."  
  


Larry groaned and shut the cover of the folder. "This is going to be harder than sneaking into the Smithsonian."  
  


A snort came out from her, making Larry give her a double look. Rebecca said, "From what I heard from that fiasco, you and Rowen didn't really have a plan."  
  


"Well you know us Daleys, we literally go in with a blind eye." He said smugly, earning a quick whack on the shoulder.  
  


Rebecca sighed and went to sit on one of the chairs. "And I'll be marrying a Daley soon enough." Just in time, his son entered the room - and the topic about the Cecil was put aside.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

He had a plan.  
  


Sort of.  
  


It took the rest of the weekend to sort out, especially when it came to constantly try his best to call Rowen halfway across the world and discuss how they'll get Ahkmenrah through to the British Museum. Apparently, her close friendship with the American Board of Directors (most important the Chairwoman herself) gave clear access for Ahkmenrah to go to the UK as part of a conservation project. They would be leaving in a couple of days, giving time for the exhibits and Rebecca to prepare.  
  


As for him, just three days later after his conversation with his fiancee: Larry did do what she suggested.  
  


He stood in front of the doors of the elderly home. It had been seven years since he's last stepped foot in this place. That was when he first visited the three former night guards after they got bailed out.  
  


' _Okay, Larry._ ' He told himself as he opened the doors and walked in.  
  


The young woman behind the desk saw him walk up as he gave her a kind smile. "Hello, I'm here to meet Cecil Fredricks." He raised the files from his bag and she nodded.  
  


"Oh yes, you must be Dr McPhee." She replied as she stood. "Please follow me."  
  


Larry followed hastily behind her, a quick glance from every shoulder as they walked down the corridor. Everything was eerily clean, with some vases and plants on the side and paintings hanging upon the walls.  
  


The receptionist stood in front of one of the doors and told him to wait. He then heard a muffled voice coming from the room.  
  


"Hello Cecil, Dr McPhee is here." The receptionist called from the opened door, sparing a quick look at him.  
  


Larry flashed a smile, ignoring the heat of his body rising.  
  


"Let him in."   
  


He barely heard before the receptionist opened the door for him.  
  


"Thanks." Larry tilted his head before he slipped into the lion's den...  
  


...If you called the lion's den a perfectly cosy bedroom.  
  


It was spacious, with white walls and ornaments decorating the sides. There were a neatly tidied bed, a dresser and a chair. By the large window was a set of armchairs and a table. Standing by one of the chairs was the former night guard himself.  
  


Even in eight years, the man in front of him seemed to have aged for twenty more years. More wrinkles dotted his face, with tired wide eyes. He wore a jumper despite the sun shining through the window, and trousers that showed his tall height. Overall, Larry could tell by his straightened posture that Cecil Fredricks still had his youthful mentality.  
  


"Now you are not Dr McPhee... unless he's coming later." It was the first thing Cecil said, raising his eyebrow.  
  


Larry stayed silent.  
  


Cecil blatantly answered, "But by your face, I assume it's just you."  
  


He stiffly replied. "You are correct."  
  


"Please, have a seat." The older man gestured to the armchair opposite and then pointed at the tea set on the table. "Tea? Coffee?"  
  


He shook his head. "No thanks."   
  


Cecil was the first one to sit down, never leaving his eyes off Larry as he settled himself down. There was an awkward silence between the two, though by how he saw him - Larry knew Cecil was studying him. Those blue/grey eyes that made the hairs on the back of Larry's neck stand.  
  


"It has been quite a time since we've met." Cecil broke the silence and Larry hummed.  
  


"Yeah, I've been busy," Larry said, fiddling his fingers on the corner of the files he held. "Eight years."  
  


"Yes. Eight years." He agreed and commented. "Time does fly when you're now living in a care home. It must be the speed of light in your sort of life."  
  


"Yeah...A lot of things have happened." Larry tried to be plain as possible, averting his eyes.  
  


However, Cecil somehow knew what he was talking about.  
  


"Indeed. I saw." Cecil stated, and curtly nodded his chin.  
  


It would seem everyone in New York knew about the Hayden Planetarium disaster. ' _I mean, your name is plastered in every news channel and paper._ ' Larry grumbled to himself.  
  


Nervously, Larry tried not to twitch his lips. "Oh...wow. I forgot it was on TV."  
  


"Hmm."  
  


Cecil's humming broke Larry from his thoughtful trance. He said, "So you know why I'm here then."  
  


There was a darkened tone in Cecil's voice. "What you've done today is risk yourself and every single friend that you have involved with it." He warned, "You have made a made a mistake coming to me."  
  


Larry bit back a retort, and carefully began: "Yes, it was a risk but-"  
  


"And you still did? Why?" Cecil pried.  
  


"Because you and I both know that you know what's probably going on!" Larry blurted and he didn't notice that his voice grew louder.   
  


The man in front didn't seem fazed, though appeared amused.  
  


Larry sighed and placed the files down onto the table. "Look, I'm not here to threaten you. I want to just ask some questions and I'll be on my way."  
  


"Why didn't you ask her?" Cecil questioned, and then slowly spoke: "...Unless she didn't tell you?"  
  


Larry didn't respond.  
  


' _Wait, Rowen's visited Cecil? When?_ ' He asked. ' _But...if she did: why didn't she-she tell me? Or anyone else?_ ' Larry pursed his lips and frowned.   
  


In the back of his head, there was the mature side of him that he could understand why Rowen hadn't said anything. They were already in danger, so telling more people could have risked all of them.   
  


Though the personal side of Larry felt betrayed. He thought that he was close to the immortal woman. He practically spent the past eight years with her, the exhibits and Rebecca. It only took six months of working together that Rowen Bates revealed the truth to him. A secret that she rarely shared with anyone for her entire life. Larry shouldn't feel jealous, but meeting with Cecil felt like he should be involved with.  
  


So why didn't she tell him? Did she tell Ahkmenrah about it? Their lives were intertwined by one thing, and that was the tablet. So it made sense that Rowen should have told him.  
  


"She didn't then...I am not surprised." Cecil drawled, and folded his arms.  
  


A flicker of anger appeared in Larry as he narrowed his eyes at him. Even what Rowen had done worried Larry, anyone insulting his dearest friend made his blood boil. He assured himself that Rowen had a purpose.  
  


"What are you talking about?" Larry impatiently asked.  
  


"Four years ago, she came to visit me. She asked about my place and what my...organisation did." Cecil explained, "She asked me the details of any names or any indication about the artefacts involved such as the Wadjet key and the Guardians."  
  


He continued for him to speak.  
  


"Unfortunately I only briefly explained to her what the Order had." The older man finished.  
  


Larry straightened his back and asked back, "Care to enlighten me?"  
  


"They are called the Order of Snakes," Cecil revealed, a ragged breath escaping his mouth. "Believed to worship Set - the god of war, chaos and storms. They are also known nowadays as the Saqqara Historical Antiquities Company. S.H.A for short."  
  


' _Nice name_ ,' Larry thought. ' _Never really heard of it before. Probably Becca has..._ '  
  


"So this...Order." Larry discussed, "You said they want the tablet and her Wadjet key. For what?"  
  


"...I cannot say."  
  


Larry wondered, "Because you can't or you don't know?"  
  


"Look Larry." Cecil began. "The years have never been kind to me, despite all this comfort. All of this...it's just a mirage. I am living in a cage, a cage that you will never get out of. They did things I never would have imagined. Not magic. No...much worse."  
  


Larry watched him unsure as Cecil turned around, showing the back of him. The former night guard lowered the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck.  
  


Tattooed on the back of his neck was some sort of symbol. An animal of sorts. He had never seen anything like it before. But by the looks of it: it made Larry flinch and the back of his own neck tingle.  
  


Cecil turned back around and continued. "They took away my choice, the choice to live an ordinary life." He rubbed the same place he showed. "This tattoo, the Serpent and the _Sha_ are symbols associating with the Order. It shows my loyalty and my place. That I am...a servant to them."  
  


"A Slave."  
  


"Is that what you think I am?" Cecil quirked an eyebrow.  
  


"Well yes, you were asked at first and it seemed tempting at that time." He said. "But now, they won't let you out. They're forcing you."  
  


By how Cecil tilted his head to the side, a smile rose up his lips, Larry saw the answer on his face.  
  


"...Do you know why I first offered you the job as night guard?" Cecil questioned him.  
  


Okay, that wasn't the question Larry suspected.  
  


"Well a lot of things." He said nonchalantly, trying to seem calm. But on the inside, his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. "I was naive, desperate and probably weak."  
  


"Well I couldn't put it into better words." Cecil quirked his lips in fondness. "But no. You reminded me of my relationship with my father. He wasn't the best father to begin with... But he took care of me despite my mother passing away when I was very young."  
  


Cecil took another breath. "He took me everywhere; went to Egypt obviously and offered me the job at the museum. But that was all he could give me. He gave me what he wanted for his own likes. He never asked what I liked, what I didn't like. He never gave me the choice to be who I was. I wanted to become an entrepreneur - ironically. And then I stumbled upon _them_."  
  


Larry shuffled closer, leaning in.  
  


The former night guard shook his head, a tired look almost showing how truly his age was. "I was naive; I was desperate too. All because I wanted to prove to someone that I could be better." Cecil glanced at him and continued, "And I know you wanted to prove to your son that you can be the best of your own self."  
  


"You can still change." Larry softly said, a hint of urge in him.  
  


He wasn't sure why he was certain. All Cecil's done for the past few years was sit here and do nothing. He hadn't changed his ways. He hadn't given them anything willingly such as names or hints. Cecil had used the last of his years in his own bubble, with no care what's happening in the outside world.  
  


Maybe he was a selfish and careless man Rowena coldly spoke about. But even then, Cecil wasn't evil. Yes, he did things that hurt people but he hasn't killed anyone. Not to Larry's knowledge.  
  


But his grandfather once told him that you shouldn't judge anyone by one thing. The same person who became best friends with Rowen Bates.  
  


Cecil stared at him as he replied, "I already have." He then held out a slip of paper. "Here-"  
  


He took the paper and furrowed his brows. "What is it?"  
  


"The titles of each leader. Circled are the top ones." He pointed.  
  


They stood up simultaneously, and quite quickly by how Larry forcefully pushed the chair away. He told himself once more to calm down, but the growing adrenaline made him forget the be rational. Larry glanced down at the names scribbled on.  
  


> _The Lion - the Head, Africa_
> 
> _The Jackal - North America._
> 
> _The Scarab - Europe_
> 
> _The Hyena - Asia_
> 
> _The Crocodile - Oceana_
> 
> _The Vulture - South America  
>   
> _

"How did you hold it?" Larry asked quickly.  
  


He turned to him and muttered, "Apparently...there is more than what the Wadjet Guardian can do."  
  


Larry didn't have time to think and quickly questioned again: "So the Tablet. I need to know how much in danger-"  
  


"I believe it's time for you to go." Cecil sternly said, stressing his words as he nudged his chin.  
  


"Wait-"  
  


"Last piece of advice: you should never have come near me." A flash of worry (or is that panic?) formed on Cecil. "They have found you."  
  


Larry reacted, "What? Them?"  
  


The Order...  
  


How did Cecil know-  
  


Larry then spotted Cecil rubbing the back of his neck rather uncomfortably. It would seem that was how he could sense them arriving.  
  


"You and your ideas, Daley." Cecil gave him a wry smile that reached his eyes. "One day it will get someone killed. Worse of all it would be yourself."  
  


"No. I'm not letting you to them." Larry firmly stated. "We can help you. Rowen will."  
  


He shook his head, "No one can help me anymore, son."  
  


Larry creased his eyebrows, frustrated. Why was Cecil being so stubborn?  
  


"If I go with you, they will find you. All you can do is take the tablet as far from New York. They are trying to do something." He answered.  
  


Sliding the windows open, Cecil leaned out to pan his surroundings before he glanced over his shoulder.  
  


There was a knock on the door.  
  


"Cecil? Are you in there?"  
  


Larry's breath paused.   
  


"You have another visitor."  
  


They were already here; they found him.  
  


His thoughts could only be broken by Cecil's exasperated sound, pulling him towards the window. When Larry gazed down, he noticed that there were vines growing over the walls of the building. As Larry now realised what the old night guard meant, he gawked back before the old man rolled his eyes.  
  


He took another gulp. This wasn't what Larry was expecting to do at all.   
  


' _But would you rather get captured and killed by the Order?_ ' He asked himself, before slinging his leg out and placed it onto the thick branches.  
  


Once he got a balance on the platform, Larry turned to face him - hinting one last plead for Cecil to come with him.  
  


"Cecil."  
  


"I plead you, Larry." A begging tone cracked in his voice. Cecil said, "Take the Tablet away. I will buy you time."  
  


"No-"  
  


He stared at him, sadness naked in Cecil's eyes.   
  


"I am sorry that this might be the last time I will see you." He spoke, placing his shaking hand over Larry's shoulder. "You are a good man, Larry Daley."  
  


Larry was at a loss of words.  
  


Cecil rasped out, whispering back: "And...I only ask you to tell her that I'm sorry for what I have done."  
  


Larry hesitated and opened his mouth to muster up another excuse.  
  


"Go," Cecil said firmly.  
  


He nodded back, before descending the vines down the building. Once Larry made it to the ground, he wobbled slightly and realised how much his legs and arms were shaking. He wasn't sure if it was the fear of climbing or the situation that now rested on the man inside that room. Larry never glanced up as he ran straight into the line of trees and houses.   
  


However, something made him turn around.  
  


Larry looked over his shoulder and sensed his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. Parked beside the care home were two black cars. And exiting out of the doors were several figures all wearing suits.  
  


He wanted to go back, to warn Cecil. But he reminded himself what the man said to him. So with a mental kick to himself: Larry left with guilt heavy in his soul.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Kai I  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

When Kai Winterson grew up, he always wanted to be a historian.  
  


His mother was a curator at the Metropolitan Museum and his father was an aspiring historian as well, who mainly focused on politics and the history of governance. They used to take him to the museum on the weekends, always explaining to him stories of past lives and the cultures the once had. They talked about ancient civilisations, how society and cities came to be. How governments and power began to exist and take hold - to make order and peace between people.  
  


Though power and freedom always felt to be an intense subject to talk about between his parents once he was old enough to speak of his mind. They would bicker and argue, always ending up with Kai crying due to the shouting. His father would tell her off for coddling him too much.  
  


Those arguments became into full fights. Kai didn't remember these parts of his life, but one moment he and his family were about to go to sleep, the next: he woke up to his father breaking every photo of his mother in their house.  
  


From then on: Kai's life changed. There were no day trips or holidays anymore. His initiation at sixteen years old came - the youngest member ever - and was told to spy and bring intel in. Even if it was the tiniest bit about an order member making a mistake or any opportunities to persuade someone to join. Kai followed them like a lamb.  
  


Until he met Cecil Fredricks. He was still working at the museum when they met. It was the first-ever meeting in regards to the tablet. Kai was tasked to make sure Cecil brought the tablet in without anyone knowing it was them. Their first interaction.  
  


Clapping his hands, Cecil wore a smile on his face. "Good afternoon gentlemen, now what do I owe you the pleasure?"  
  


Kai stood back, nodding at Cecil as he shook hands with his father. The rest of the people with them scattered around the room, standing firmly in the perimeter as the silently waited. All wore their suits, with shades on their noses whilst Kai and his father had worn their own tailored suits with no sunglasses.  
  


" _As my apprentice, you will watch what I do. Learn our ways._ " His father said to him the first time he took Kai to his work. " _You will stay quiet and watch behind me. Is that clear?_ "  
  


Oh, how wrong Kai was those years ago.  
  


He regretted never saying anything. Too afraid to defy his father ever since his mother left them. Years spent having to watch red spill and people manipulated. They then hid what they do with money, wearing fancy suits and living in luxury. The movies always made it so cool. With the Mafia and such. But this?  
  


Kai wore his suit like a shield. Both mentally and physically. Mostly mentally. He hated having a dirty suit after a 'job' and would burn the previous one instead of cleaning it. He would never want to see the same suit that he wore after sending someone to their grave.  
  


He still had morals...or some kind left.  
  


He watched them exchange gestures, before his father acclaimed, "Cecil. It is good to see you again. Though I wished it was for better circumstances."  
  


"Oh, I beg to differ. I'm having a lovely time here. I've been taken care of. I have my dearest friends here as well." The former night guard told them, plastering another fake smile back at them.  
  


"That's nice to hear. I'm glad your retirement has fitted you well." His father spoke. "You must have thanked Mr Daley for suggesting this place. I heard it has a lot of history with the Daley family."  
  


Cecil changed the subject and said bluntly, "Since you've visited in person, I'm assuming it's something important."  
  


"Indeed. Your...plans for the Tablet has been successful." Ian Winterson nodded. "It has been completed just a couple of months ago in Luxor and it'll be shipped here in a few weeks time. On it's way to Washington as we speak."  
  


Cecil laughed harshly, "You seriously think it will work?" He then quietened down. "Apologies. Don't get me wrong. I have absolute faith in you, but you must realise: the tablet is one of a kind. Nothing can replace something just like that."  
  


He could feel his father's anger radiate next to him. But Ian didn't show it.  
  


Ian questioned him, "So you must have heard about the other one then? The tablet that has begun to corrode due to the loss of power...or perhaps contamination."  
  


Kai saw the hesitation in Cecil's eyes.  
  


That was all Ian needed.  
  


Shaking his head, Cecil answered back, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  


"You're confused. You don't know who's side you're on." Ian stated.  
  


He realised what his father was doing. He was trying to catch Cecil out, even if Ian knew it already the answers.  
  


"I always sided with you," Cecil spoke boldly. "I have always been loyal to you, to the Order."  
  


"Had." He stopped him. "We don't deal with traitors in our order, especially ones that have mixed with the magic of the guardians themselves. I always wondered why you could touch it."  
  


"The ritual went wrong." The older man shrugged his shoulder, but his eyes darted away.  
  


Kai mentally shouted to him. ' _For fucks sake..._ '  
  


His father's voice lowered and in a threatening tone, Ian answered: "The ritual never lies. A Guardian has protected you." He interrogated, "Was it the Wadjet Keyholder?"  
  


A second too late, Kai saw Cecil's eyes flash at the name.  
  


' _No...no, no, no!_ ' Kai wanted to strangle the old man. ' _What are you doing?!_ '  
  


"Maybe." Cecil snapped. "I don't know!"  
  


"I am not the Scarab. And I'm not the Jackal that you met fifty years ago." Taking a step forward, his father lifted his head, seeing the flash of fear shown in Cecil's face. "Set has given us his blessing, and we need one thing from you to complete the Tablet."  
  


Kai's heart grew cold as his stomach churned in earnest.  
  


He didn't want to watch this. Even at his age and position, he should be alright with seeing death right in front of him. But this. This was wrong. Cecil had done nothing but comply and do what he was told. And one little mistake; one slip up: had sent an old man to his death.  
  


Kai held his breath and counted to ten in his head, just like his mother told him. A way for him to get to sleep.  
  


Just before he realised his mother left.  
  


"What," Cecil asked.  
  


Ian said simply, "Your heart."  
  


Arm raised, Kai saw the handgun that was pointed at Cecil. The gun at his head. Kai began to panic.  
  


Cecil told him, a warning tone, "You know this will end badly for you."  
  


Ian didn't comment.  
  


"For both sides of this...war, you're planning." He spoke, a sly smile resting on him. "It won't work. Even with my blood and removing my existence, it won't match them."  
  


His father asked politely, "And why may that be?"  
  


Nothing came from Cecil's mouth - only a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.  
  


Cecil's time was gone. And too soon. Kai wanted to push his father to the side before it was too late.  
  


But he didn't.  
  


There was a click.  
  


Ian's finger edged on the trigger.  
  


' _No-'  
  
_

When the gun was shot, and the body slumped onto the floor: he didn't blink an eye.  
  


His head didn't flinch. Too many years watching bodies die. Sometimes at his hand or other people's. He felt like he was suffocating again and he could not bear to move his eyes down to the floor where Cecil laid.  
  


Another person was dead. All because they defied the Order.  
  


Kai swallowed the bile down his throat and his nerves from his father. As his father, turned to him and eyed him with a quick nod, Kai followed and stayed behind to take a watch of the rest of the people with them.  
  


The cleanup crew began decontaminating the room, removing any evidence that Cecil even existed in the care home. As the three men did this, Kai waited for his father to disappear into the corridor - probably to brainwash the rest of the staff. The usual procedures they had to do whenever they tracked down anyone against them.  
  


Whilst the did clean, Kai finally had the confidence to move towards Cecil. When he did, Kai felt something go down his spine as his body went numb.  
  


Blue unnerving eyes stared up at him. Kai sensed something trickle down his cheeks and carefully wiped the tears as subtly as possible. He wanted to cry. He really did. Hell, Kai would've pulled out his gun and shot his father hadn't anyone else was with him.  
  


However, Kai knew that he was better alive than dead. But to the expense of the man that helped him get out of the Order and helped him find the truth of his mother? Cecil Fredricks meant more to Kai then anyone else, having understood what it felt to be in the Order and wanting to get away more than anything. He was the man that trusted him, who saw a way out of the Order. Now he was gone.  
  


' _I'm sorry_.' He said in his head.   
  


Kai let out a strangled breath before shakily closing Cecil's eyelids.   
  


' _But I'll do this. I'll make sure we do this.'_ He stood up and dusted his trousers off.  
  


Just as the whole room was cleared along with Cecil's body, Kai analysed the room. Everything seemed immaculate and no indication of life. Though as he decided to walk out and meet with his father, Kai paused in his steps.  
  


Sticking out of one of the cushions of the bed was a small white object. Kai searched his surroundings, checking if anyone was around before taking the piece of paper out of the bed. He slipped it into his pocket and continued his way out of the room.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXVII  
  
**

**_2014 - New York City  
  
_ **

Larry was shaken the moment he called the elderly home where Cecil lived.  
  


_"I'm sorry sir," The receptionist's voice flowed into his ears. "There isn't anyone called Cecil here."  
  
_

_He gulped.  
  
_

_Larry asked again, "Are you sure? I actually was there yesterday."  
  
_

_There was another pause. "No, sorry sir. You don't seem to be in our system." The woman's voice was certain. "And usually, we have a data sheet for anyone who comes in and out."  
  
_

_“Actually, no.” He shook his head, lying back. “I called the wrong number. Apologies for taking your time.”  
  
_

_After he thanked her and hung up the call, Larry's hand went numb.  
  
_

There was the sound of an object shattering on the ground.  
  


Cecil was either gone...  
  


Or dead.  
  


Larry hoped it was not the latter. Because he knew he would never forgive himself leaving him at that place. All he could do now was promise the man that he would send the tablet far from New York.  
  


He took a ragged breath.  
  


He needed to breathe. To get out of the apartment. He knew Rebecca was still asleep after staying up last night to prepare for Ahkmenrah’s departure in a few days.  
  


So, grabbing his jacket and keys: Larry picked up his phone off the ground with some hesitance. Maybe he should leave it for a while, knowing well how he’s been acting up for the past few days.  
  


The Tablet.  
  


Cecil Fredricks.  
  


The Order of Snakes.  
  


His visions.  
  


Maybe he was dreaming again. All of this was a dream.  
  


‘ _Central Park._ ’ He told himself. ‘ _I’ll go on a walk, take some air…and then I’ll go from there._ ’  
  


He took the subway this time, forgetting the car he and Rebecca saved up to get and kept his mind focused on the things around him. His eyes were wandering about, seeing people move about, nothing to care but themselves. Larry couldn’t deny he did it too.  
  


It was why he noticing the shadows that followed him. In the train, on the platform and on the way out of the station: Larry could sense someone following him.  
  


When he saw the mass of green, his own heart could be ripped open.  
  


‘ _Maybe I shouldn’t have left the apartment._ ’  
  


In ten minutes, he was wandering the paths of the parks, keeping his eyes in front. Even from now, he remembered what he did in these places. Him and Nicky heading to his hockey matches, eating ice cream and rollerblading. Dates with Rebecca whenever they had time, talking about, well, everything that they could think out of the top of their heads. His walks with Rowen before their evening shift before she left.  
  


Even when his life – his career – was not the most ordinary thing anyone would suspect a man of his age to be doing: he tried his hardest to be normal. To feel normal either way.  
  


It all seems just a façade.  
  


Larry glanced across him, spotting the large fountain. And a man staring at him.  
  


His heart stopped for a moment, before quickly averting his eyes and turning around to walk. ‘ _Stay calm, Daley._ ’ He thought. ‘ _You’re just in shock. You’re…you’re not yourself._ ’  
  


“Mr Daley.”  
  


Looking up, Larry regretted the moment his eyes found the man he wished he did not expect to see.  
  


The Mayor of New York City.  
  


“Mr Daley?”  
  


He blinked several times before adjusting his voice. “I’m sorry, um.” Larry shook his head. “I wasn’t really watching where I was-“  
  


“I know you went to visit Mr Fredricks yesterday.” Ian Winterson spoke.  
  


His teeth slightly loosened, and Larry widened his eyes. How did he know?  
  


Unless…  
  


“Mr Daley? Are you listening to me?”  
  


Larry quickly replied, “You were there.” He said carefully. “You…you were the one that came.”  
  


“Of course.” The man in the suit adjusted his jacket, tapping his umbrella on the ground. His eyes pierced through his, making Larry feel that he was trapped. “Usually I am not someone who comes into the scene. I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”  
  


Larry refrained furrowing his eyebrow, still trying to comprehend what was going on. The Mayor was part of the Order. The Order now knew him. They knew he went to Cecil, but how? He didn’t inform anyone but the care home, but even then, he used McPhee’s name to make sure no one knew.  
  


Did Winterson do something to Cecil?  
  


“I know what you’re thinking.” Winterson interrupted his thoughts.  
  


Larry stayed quiet.  
  


“You’re probably wondering what we did to Mr Fredricks.” He said. “What did the receptionist say to you?”  
  


‘ _They know you._ ’ Larry now realised. ‘ _But how much do they know about me?_ ’ He questioned, “If you already know this, why?”  
  


Winterson smiled with dead eyes. “We are giving you a warning, Mr Daley.” He stepped forward. “Your affiliation with the Tablet and Ms Clarke has always placed you in a target. Something that needs to stop.”  
  


“You killed a man.” Larry snapped. “You killed a man because all he did was talk to me.”  
  


Winterson answered, “Yes. I killed him.” He paused. “But not because of that. No. He did more than just associate with you. He brought this to himself. He thought he could change – become a martyr – because Rowena Clarke believed in him.”  
  


‘How does he know her name?’ He asked himself. ‘She has no records of her online. It’s all on paper. Hidden away-‘  
  


“You know.” Winterson changed the subject. “I am impressed, that a man like you could simply be so unsure. Even my son is _more_ sure of his own future than yourself. But you; you’re walking into a crossroad that leads to more crossroads.”  
  


Larry creased his brows. “What are you talking about?”  
  


“To be one of the heads of the Order is a privilege – an honour,” Winterson said. “But it’s a long process to get there. So many dead ends before you finally get yourself to the top. And even then, there is so much more to see…You should know: your job resume speaks volumes.”  
  


Larry gulped.  
  


He shouldn’t be surprised that they knew his background now.  
  


“The good thing starting from the bottom is that you know the feeling of being there. To feel like you’re being tossed here and there like a ball. Those higher powers playing you like chess.” Winterson said, tapping his umbrella twice. He glanced up to Larry. “It’s how I know you. What you are like. You want to help people. You want to keep doing better for people.”  
  


He inhaled sharply, grinding his teeth. “Just cut to the chase, will you?”  
  


“I want you to give your word,” Winterson answered. “Accept your resignation at the Museum and you, your son and Ms Hutman will be safe.”  
  


His hands immediately went to his pockets, but he remembered one thing: he left his phone back home.  
  


Larry’s eyes flashed back, “What did you do to them?”  
  


“Nothing yet.” He replied simply, “But if you take a step and follow Ms Clarke and the Pharaoh, your son and Ms Hutman will not be let go easily.”  
  


A string of curses was screaming in his head.  
  


‘ _You can’t._ ’ He thought. ‘ _They need you. Heck, you’re getting visions too!_ ’  
  


He should have stayed back in the apartment.  
  


“No.” He answered. With a glare back at Winterson, he said in a stern tone. “You can threaten me. You and your fucking cult. But I won’t do this.”  
  


Winterson didn’t respond, only looking away before sighing.  
  


At that moment, Larry spun around and walked away.  
  


“You’re making a grave mistake, Lawrence Daley.”  
  


Larry raised his head and continued to walk forward.


	42. London is Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry, Nick and Rebecca fly over to London with Ahkmenrah and the Tablet, meeting Rowena after half a year ago. Though it seems a lot has changed in just a short span of time - and both Larry and Rowena are unsure to share their own burdens.
> 
> They get to also experience the city for the first time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much for this update but just to say thank you so much for sticking this long. 
> 
> We finally get to go to London after so long! Basically from here, the movie plot will divert from canon to begin the plot I've created. I'm almost complete editing Part 2 so I'm back to writing the rest. Next chapter might not come until another week or two but I'll try as much to get something out. 
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope you are staying safe. :)

** Larry XXVIII  
  
**

_**2014 - London  
  
** _

_"Come on, Heteph! Catch up!"  
  
_

_She watched her cousin: Nefari, run down the path and she couldn't help but shake her head and laugh. Hetepheres was not someone that raced about the place like a hyena.  
  
_

_Throughout her ten years of her life: she took things nice and slowly, taking her time to observe and contemplate reality and life at her pace. The world and life itself were something she cared for deeply despite how good or bad things were. She saw life and peace as the true beauty of reality.  
  
_

_Though, no one could compare its beauty as Hetepheres herself.  
  
_

_With thick black hair that was braided in small strands and beads. Round eyes that pierced into any person's soul and yet so gentle and soft. A chiselled face with full lips, toned by tanned skin and body that could rival a goddess. At a young age, she was blessed by the gods themselves with her features and caught eyes from many parents to betroth their children with her.  
  
_

_But what made her unique from others were her eyes.  
  
_

_They matched the colour of her family gardens - bright and golden. It stood out from her dark features, almost giving anyone a trance if they ever caught sight of her. Hetepheres wondered why her eyes were different from her family, all of whom had dark brown ones. Her mother once said it was something else which the gods blessed her once more, to match the golden rays of the sun that gave life and light to the earth they walked upon.  
  
_

_Hetepheres smiled, breathing in the air around her. Her home had the best gardens, but nothing could match the ones on the western side of the palace gardens. It overlooked the Iteru, the waters shimmering from the sun. Date palms and pomegranate trees were lining the edges of the garden, with several ponds and benches.  
  
_

_She was bathing in the cool breeze from the river, the beautiful flowers and plants until she heard a voice.  
  
_

_'_ _**Guardian...**_ _'  
  
_

_Those words echoed as if it was being carried by the wind. Hetepheres's smile faltered and confusion was written on her face.  
  
_

_'_ _**You are not ready...'  
  
**_

_Hetepheres panned around the gardens, trying to find the voice. However, all she could see nearby was Nefari. She frowned and wondered.  
  
_

_"Who are you?" She asked aloud.  
  
_

_' **Someone who needs your help, little one...'**_ _The voice said in her ear. ' **But for now, enjoy your youth. You are not of age yet to know your place in this world.'  
  
**_

_She answered back, "Why do you need my help?" Hetepheres' tone changed to concern. "Are you alright?"  
  
_

_A soft giggle echoed.  
  
_

_' **Caring and peaceful...unlike many in this world: who only seek power and hunger.'**_ _They said.' **Never stopped being selfless Hetepheres, for it is a power that no one has other than yourself...**_ _'  
  
_

_When Hetepheres looked to where the direction of the voice left, all she saw was a figure in the middle of gardens.  
  
_

_Not Nefari, but a grown man. She walked over, too curious as she carefully tried to call to them.  
  
_

_The man's back was turned to her.  
  
_

_Hetepheres called out: "Who are you?"  
  
_

_When the man turned, they were features she had never seen before. His face so pale and his eyes coloured blue.  
  
_

_Then the man gasped and jumped back, "You're ...you're here!" He then tried to compose himself, "I... I'm Larry Daley. And how can I understand you?"  
  
_

_Hetepheres furrowed her eyebrows and replied, "That's a very peculiar name, Larry Daley." She then straightened herself out and added. "And what do you mean? You are speaking the common tongue.”  
  
_

_The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out before he shut it again. "Nevermind, so...what's your name?"  
  
_

_"I am Hetepheres." She said simply and then quirked a brow. "Why are you in the gardens?"  
  
_

_"I-I'm not! I'm..." He trailed off and scratched his head. "Jesus Christ, how do I tell a ten-year-old Egyptian girl that this is a dream?"  
  
_

_Hetepheres titled her head to the side, "What do you mean? This isn't a dream."  
  
_

_The man shut his eyes and took a breath. Larry muttered, "Oh god...why now. Why not just when I'm in bed and lying down and not on a plane?"  
  
_

_"What's a... plane?" Hetepheres asked, now curious about what the foreign man was muttering about.  
  
_

_"Look." He began. "Something is going on right now, but I don't know why and what is it giving me these vision...but this isn't real."  
  
_

_' **Of course, this is all real Larry Daley.** '  
  
_

_The voice returned.  
  
_

_'_ _**Larry Daley...meet Hetepheres.'  
  
**_

_She then stared at the man, wondering why the voice was introducing him to her once more.  
  
_

_The man's eyes widened, and barely in a whisper, he spoke: "You're...you're a guardian." Larry continued, "Not only that...your eyes."  
  
_

_She then became self-conscious of them, tensing her shoulders. Everyone always commented on her eyes. How golden they were, and how unlike they were from everyone else's. Her family, her peers. Even if no one spoke about them, it nerved her how out of place she was.  
  
_

_Hetepheres asked, "What about them."  
  
_

_He quickly replied, "Nothing!" Larry took a breath and then said, "It's the colour...the same ones Rowen has. Well…kind of. They are sometimes brown, but they go gold in the light.”  
  
_

_"Who is Rowen?"  
  
_

" **Dad?** "  
  


He let out an inaudible gasp, sending himself lurching forward and hitting his forehead on the back of the front seat. Larry let out a strain of curses - rubbing his face from the impact. When he looked to his side, he saw the worried lines  
  


He was back on the aeroplane, next to his son and fiancée. ' _That was just a dream, okay._ ' Larry repeated in his head. 'J _ust a dream...nothing to worry about._ '  
  


"Dad? You okay?"  
  


When he turned to his side, Larry saw the mixed horror and worry Nick wore on his face. He was looking at him as if he had seen some paranormal action or some exorcism right in front of him whilst his mouth was agape. Once Larry caught his eyes, his son snapped his lips shut but kept his eyes trailed to him - staring deep into him that he could feel him almost figuring out what happened.  
  


So, he glanced away, leaning forward and rubbing his sweaty forehead with his hand. Larry still felt he was delirious as if he were still in the dream. He did not know if he was still in the plane until he smoothened the table and window with his bare hands. They felt pretty solid to him.  
  


"Yeah...yeah." Larry croakily began and assured him. "Just um...weird dream; that's all."  
  


There was a look of disbelief in Nick's face before Larry turned away and idly pressed the television screen with his hand. He hoped that watching (or mostly listening) to something could remove his mind off from what just happened.  
  


But even trying to focus on the episodes of _Friends_ could not stop his consciousness fading back to the vision he had. Of the Egyptian girl and the garden. All he remembered was falling asleep on the plane due to all the stress from the past few weeks, and then waking up feeling hot and sticky as the sun beat down on him.  
  


Larry felt as if he was in Egypt. The heat and the smell and the noise. It felt real. Even Hetepheres was real - the girl with the golden eyes and familiar face until he realised who it was.  
  


The same girl who had been having visions of.  
  


He did not dwell any further, hoping to stop himself from thinking any further about guardians or magical voices in his head. As much as it was losing his sleep, Larry knew the tablet was more important. Hell, the tablet was being hunted down for god's sake.  
  


So, he brushed off the worry looks Rebecca sent him as well after they got off the plane. When the three of them were waiting for their luggage at baggage claim at Heathrow: Rebecca asked him if he was alright and Larry immediately said that he was just having a nightmare. That instantly sent her sending a sad smile. She assumed he was thinking of Cecil Fredricks, who he only told three people about since his death.  
  


Speaking of Cecil Fredricks, Larry was nervous about revealing the truth to Rowen about it.  
  


How would she react if she knew he died because of the tablet? What would she do then?  
  


In all the years he has known her, Larry knew the tension Rowen Bates had about with the former night guard. And it was reasonable. Cecil did try to kill her and kidnap her and Rowen didn't aid Cecil from getting out of jail until Larry bailed him out.  
  


However, hearing that she went to Cecil before she left for London four years ago also made Larry question his friend's motives. Why did she go to him for? What did Cecil have that was vital for Rowen Bates?  
  


And from the lack of tension between Rowen and Ahkmenrah, it would seem the pharaoh didn't know about the meeting at all.  
  


All his concerns and worries all subsided and drawn aside when they exited the arrival doors, pushing a cart of their luggage out. All three of them kept a lookout for the familiar face, despite Larry joking that it would be a struggle for them - considering how short his friend was.  
  


"There you are!"  
  


Standing by the rest of the people waiting was the director and historian herself.  
  


Rowen Bates still looked the same as before, though perhaps even more distinguished by her pixie cut and golden hoops. The colour matched the Wadjet Key around her necklace, slightly hidden by the light cardigan she wore. It went down past her knees, spotting the usual oxford leather shoes that he always saw her in.  
  


Her pale-green summer dress swayed as she strode towards them. It went down past her knees, spotting the usual oxford leather shoes that he always saw her in.  
  


Her smile made him grin, happy to see her after so long, even if it had only been half a year ago, she visited New York. But six months can be a big change, and Larry almost felt heartache the moment he focused on her.  
  


Despite the kind smile and neat and sophisticated look, Rowen appeared more tired than usual. Her face had hollowed, her cheeks were more prominent than ever. It made her eyes pop, a mixture of dark brown and gold as well as the freckles due to the sun. Even as an ageless woman, Rowen had aged somehow, and it made Larry doubt himself.  
  


What happened during the six months since Rowen left? She seemed perfectly healthy over at New York. But now it was as if she was not herself entirely.  
  


Larry knew not to say it out loud the moment she and Rebecca hugged each other tightly. Some muffled interaction left them laughing along before they pulled away.  
  


His heart almost lifted when he saw the recognizable grin and doe-like eyes.  
  


"Ro! You look amazing!" Rebecca complimented her and gestured.  
  


The British woman answered, "So are you!" She let out a grin and added, "Let's see then?"  
  


Larry smiled, watching his fiancée confidently hold out her hand towards her. Rowen inspected the ring on her hand - her mouth open at awe.  
  


"I love it, such a beautiful blend of Art Deco and Native American." She praised, winking up to Larry.  
  


He smirked back, "Specially made for the head curator." In turn, that made Rebecca's cheeks tint pink before swatting a hand at his arm.  
  


"Obviously." Rowen grinned and spoke. "A wonderful woman should receive a wonderful ring to compliment herself and her attributes."  
  


For a moment, Larry reminisced the first time he heard her speak for the first time. The unique old-fashioned dialect mixed with modern slang and phrases was a highlight Rowen Bates posed.   
  


It was his turn to greet the petite woman. After six months away, Larry missed Rowen despite calling several times throughout the year. He breathed in, wanting to keep her in an embrace for a long time. When they stepped back, she then went over to Nick and commented on how tall he was now.  
  


"I've been taller than you for two years now, Rowen." Nick grinned, earning him rolling eyes before she huffed.  
  


Rebecca and Larry sent each other silent looks, amused at his son with Rowen. Nick had always taken Rowen like an aunt after these years and always contacted each other whether it was about school or what was dubbed as 'relationship advice'.  
  


"Come, I rented a car today. If you come with me, I'm going to just sort out Ahk so he's taken to the British Museum." Rowen gestured to the three. "But I'm sure you are all jetlagged and need to freshen up."  
  


Larry and Nick followed the duo, knowing how the two took their work seriously. Ahkmenrah had come in special care by the American Museum of Natural History. How it was possible to ship him across the Atlantic was an entirely different matter.  
  


One involving the help of Dr McPhee and the chairwoman: Dr Micarah Campbell.  
  


It still baffled him how the chairwoman believed both Rebecca and McPhee about it, knowing that there wasn't anything damaged from the disaster. But once the sign was cleared, and they were able to ship Ahkmenrah away: they took quick action to take a plane to London.  
  


Larry spotted several men loading the large crate into one of the vans. A large logo of the British Museum on the side as Rowen and Rebecca discussed procedures with the men moving Ahkmenrah. Once they were done, they followed Rowen to the car park and found themselves packing their things in the boot.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

From the small window from his seat in the car, London was different from Larry's point of view.  
  


He imagined the movies from _James Bond_ with the white buildings with ornate carvings made of stone, lined with gold. Statues of famous historical people perched on podiums and trees lining the streets - the greenery complementing the red double-decker buses and telephone boxes. Black cabs were driving down the road, with cyclists and pedestrians over the road, with many wearing suits or casual tourist outfits.  
  


He never been to London and seeing more than the stereotypes littered over the place - something was unnerving to speak about the city. There was a deeper history within the buildings and people within. The present versus the past.  
  


His father once told him that there is more than just what you see, and Larry understood the secret beneath the streets of this city. A city built upon many layers of events. Both good and bad and neither in some way.  
  


And from the comments Rowen had about London ever since he met her: she had mixed feelings about the city she called her home.  
  


_"It's a city built on secrets." She told him one time when they were out buying some drinks for that night's party. "A city is never perfect, neither it is good nor bad. It brings people together, but it also hides the ones that others believe are not worth their place within society."  
  
_

Larry felt shame and sorry for Rowen, knowing well enough how a woman of colour had to be the hardest thing to be for the past two hundred years. He did not comment on it, because he knew it wasn't his place. He was a modern man and all he could do was watch and listen and understand.  
  


Once the traffic and half an hour later, they arrived at a quiet part of the city - still hearing the sound of cars and sirens in the distance. Rowen parked by the pavement and turned off the ignition.  
  


"So Ahk will be taken to the museum. I've asked Antonio to keep extra precautions of any unwanted faces or suspicious behaviour." She spoke as she helped them get their bags out of the car. "Now, let's get you all settled."  
  


Flashing her a small smile, he slid off his seat and closed the door. Once he lugged out the luggage with the aid of Rowen and Rebecca, he heard Nick gasp next to him.  
  


To what his son was gasping about made him splutter out in surprise.  
  


In front of them was a row of white terraced houses, beautifully decorated and adorned by green hedges and ferns. The front door was navy, with mosaic windows and the number 32 written in gold. If Rowen's New York home was fancy, who knew how beautiful her London home was.  
  


Or how expensive for that matter.  
  


"Wait." He gazed down at her and stammered, "Y-you live here?"  
  


The woman cheekily shrugged and held a small smile. "Call it a bit of investment."  
  


Larry gawked as Rowen grinned back.  
  


"A dear friend of mine during the 1870s sold it to me after I helped her sort out her issue." She explained, unlocking the door with her keys and pushing it open.  
  


Before he entered, Larry asked: "Which was?"  
  


She paused as she glanced at them. "Let's just say she needed some people off her back," Rowen said. "I had some people do it. Now, she was free and was a happy widow - happily passing this to me as her last will and testament."  
  


Larry gave her a look, and she blinked innocently before hearing his son choke back a laugh.  
  


"Jesus, that sounds badass," Nick said, which earned another grin from the historian.  
  


He couldn't help but mentally agree, taking in his surroundings. It was similar to the decoration in New York, though there was a homely feeling of it. With dark woods and soft green and gold colours. From peering into the living room, the walls were lined with bookshelves and wall lamps. Pictures of newspaper clippings and oil paintings that were definitely original to Larry's view.  
  


For Larry, the house seemed to be going into the set of what seemed to be a mixed modern-Victorian flat. But for Rowen Bates perhaps: it was a memory which held her entire life in a terrace house. Everything from the late 1700s to the present day seemed to show in little bits around the home, even if Larry had only seen the front corridor and parts of the living room.  
  


' _I can see why Rowen treasures this place._ ' Larry thought to himself, remembering the homely tone she spoke on the way here about her house. ' _But it's not making her truly happy._ '  
  


"Now, Yara is away today. She'll be back this evening, but I informed her that you three were coming." She then pointed up the staircase and told them. "The guest bedrooms are en-suite. Second floor and on the first door on the right. Another is down the same corridor. I'm going to just text the museum and ask if he got there safely."  
  


Taking out her phone, she excused herself and strolled down the corridor after they began going up the stairs.  
  


If the front part of the house was beautiful, words could not describe the bedroom suites.  
  


Whilst Nick took the next room down the corridor, Larry and Rebecca took the first one next to the landing. When Rebecca opened the doors to the bedroom, Larry's reaction mirrored his fiancée’s.  
  


"This is beautiful." Rebecca leapt and landed on the large king-sized bed and sighed. "And so big."  
  


Chuckling, he set the luggage to the side before exploring the room for a bit. The large window showed the street below, facing the small park in the middle of the block of houses. The sun was shining through, illuminating the room. Tall and yet comforting, the walls were painted grey with gold linings. Green and Gold ornate curtains draped over the windows, matching the grey sofa and grey fireplace. The furniture was mixed matched, with some made of glass while the wardrobe and dressers were wooden. A glass chandelier dangled above them.  
  


Larry joined Rebecca on the bed, tucking her under his arm as she snuggled closer to him. Her presence soothed his heart, making his hand intertwined with hers.  
  


"Okay, is it just me..." Larry began, "Or is Rowen not looking great?"  
  


She sighed in relief and quietly answered, "Oh thank god I wasn't the only one!" Rebecca gave in a worried glance to Larry. "Do you think something happened?"  
  


"I don't know. She seemed fine six months ago." Larry said, gulping. "She cut her hair...do you think...Do you think she's..." He didn't need to finish his sentence, knowing how much Rebecca understood what he was trying to imply.  
  


Even ageless, Rowen as still susceptible to illnesses. She had terrible flu a year before she left New York, and it worried Ahkmenrah so much that he stayed at her place until it was almost sunrise. It had made Rowen so worried for him that it sent her getting out of bed and sending him out.  
  


Larry at that time didn't know at all and almost gave him a heart attack. Luckily, he found out through Jedediah and Octavius, driving as fast as he could to take the pharaoh back to museum before he could crumble into dust.  
  


"But she's Immortal. She can't get sick, let alone a terminal condition." Rebecca quietly murmured to him. "Larry, out of the two of us: you're her closest friend."  
  


He pursed his lips and hummed. "She seems like everything is getting to her. I'll ask her when we're free." Larry said. "One thing's for sure, Ahk's going to freak out and will probably put her first and then the Tablet." He gave her a wry smile, making her scoff in exasperation.  
  


"Those two honestly." She then sat up and headed to the door on the far left. He assumed it was the bathroom from Rowen's information. "Right. I'm going to just have a quick shower-wow this looks amazing!"  
  


Larry chuckled, before laying back down with another sigh. He thought of clearing his mind by closing his eyes again. But all he could imagine once more was the garden and Hetepheres.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Rowena XXX  
  
**

_**2014 - London  
  
** _

They went out into the city as soon as Larry, Rebecca and Nick freshened up and rested for a bit. Whilst they did so, Rowena made sure that Ahkmenrah arrived at the museum safely and without any hassle. She had to thank Antonio once more his swift help, easing her stress as she organised her schedule to fit her situation.  
  


The first thing they did was find lunch, and what better way for Rowena to show London to them was to go one of her favourite places to visit for the past couple of decades.  
  


Covent Garden was filled with markets, shops, cafes and restaurants of alike. Settled either out or inside the old train stations and warehouses, it was decorated by glass roofing, colourful walls and greenery.  
  


There was a certain restaurant she loved to go to with either Antonio or Yara. A mixed restaurant pub which had a ray of dishes to select from. They sat outside, picking a nice spot to see the rest of Covent Garden and the people walking pass by.  
  


_Tuttons_ sat on the edge of the square, overseeing the number of cyclists and pedestrians around them. The unusual sunny weather kept the four out with a large umbrella over their heads. Rowena gave them suggestions when it came to choosing their meals before they chatted on whatever was appropriate out in public.  
  


Even if it had only been six months since she had last seen them, it would seem a lot has happened between the time she left New York to the present day. Not only with the Tablet in danger and the disaster over a week ago, she knew that Larry and Rebecca were engaged which she was finally relieved.  
  


Eight years was a long time, and finally tying the knot gave Rowena some hope that the two would be together. Even Nick seemed happy for his father, getting along well with Rebecca even before the engagement. The lovely couple didn't show their affection as much as others, but perhaps it was the age. Larry and Rebecca got along together like they were already married, a love that was constant and not a firework.  
  


Well. Unlike her romance story with the Pharaoh of Egypt. Its ached Rowena's heart whenever she parted Ahkmenrah's side, and yet the two still powered through. Unlike Larry and Rebecca who worked at the same place, she and Ahkmenrah's lives were stark different and _very_ far apart. With distance and separation led to outbursts of love and affection.  
  


Rowena loved Ahkmenrah. And she hoped he loved her equally back despite their lives never intertwining as long as they wished.  
  


At the mention of love, Larry mentioned Nick's arm. Rowena curiously asked, only earning a red-faced Nick before Rebecca came to explain that the phone number written in pen was from a girl from Nick's parties.  
  


The youngest Daley tried to avert the conversation, but it only grew worse when Larry began mentioning about Nick's pursue to DJing in Ibiza.  
  


Firstly, Rowena had no quarrel or objection to their parenting. From her small knowledge, Nick wanted to take a gap year before going to university. Though from Larry's view, he didn't find it at all appealing whereas Rebecca stayed silent throughout.  
  


Their food came, and she quickly changed the subject before the two Daley men could have a heated argument. As much as she spectated or even began feuds: she would not wish to see father and son torn apart by something simple.  
  


Their plates were empty in such a time that they had time for dessert. Once that was done and dusted, Rowena paid the waiter despite Rebecca and Larry's protest. This was her city, and Rowena would treat her guests as much as what Larry posed the first time they had pizza together in New York.  
  


"That was the best thing I ever ate," Nick said as they were walking about after they left the restaurant.  
  


Larry turned to her and said, "Rowen, you really didn't have to."  
  


Giving up, she sighed and retorted. "Again, I am treating you all because I want to." Rowena proclaimed, "This is my city. I've spent the majority of my life living here and working here. I know the best places to shop, to eat and to make sure you three don't get trapped by the tourist spots."  
  


The older Daley opened his mouth to interject but was stopped as soon as Nick saw the chocolate store. She raised an eyebrow back at her friend, to which he grumbled and followed them inside.  
  


"Larry's just being polite. It's actually been amazing to see Covent Garden." Rebecca assured her before they began wandering the stores of the place.  
  


They took the tube to one of the many places Rebecca wished to see, despite not telling the three that Rowena knew about her friend's list of places to visit. Once they did get off, it was bustling with people and tourists. Big Ben and Parliament were overshadowing the Thames. The large red buses and heavy traffic made Rowena internally miss the horse and carriages of Victorian London.  
  


Once they crossed the road, Rowena spotted Rebecca lookup around her in a gasp.  
  


She paused abruptly and breathed, "Oh wow...is this Parliament Square?"  
  


Before she could reply, the curator and historian were gone.  
  


"Oh no. You let her go again." Larry sighed.  
  


She glanced up to him and snorted. "You're with a bunch of historians, Daley." Rowena caught Rebecca waving to her, and she brushed her off, telling her friend that she'll be there in a minute. "Let her enjoy it," Rowena told him.  
  


"Dad, I'm just going to Rebecca by the way." Nick eyed his father to which he gave him a narrowed expression.  
  


Larry asked, "Are you gonna try and climb it?"  
  


"What? No!" Nick quickly answered, going slightly pink before hurrying away toward Rebecca.  
  


As Larry let out an exasperated sigh, Rowen smiled back and patted his arm. It would seem that Larry and Nick's relationship was still strong, despite the tension that occurred during lunch. She could only hope that they would resolve it some time, knowing well enough the experience with her daughter began with their differences in career paths.  
  


Larry turned to her and softly said, "Hey Rowen, how are you by the way?" He asked, "For real."  
  


Automatically, Rowena blew through her nostrils and refrained groaning in frustration. ' _What is with Daley men and seeing through me?_ ' She asked herself before audibly answering. "...I am alright." She lied and then sighed tiredly. "Just stressed."  
  


She thanked him for not commenting about it. Admittedly, she tried her best to look presentable. It was embedded since childhood: to appear in your armour and wear it with confidence. One of the many things which a lot of governesses used to teach her about.  
  


From a stranger's perspective, she was just a young woman living in London with a successful career in her hands.  
  


No one truly knew behind the mask and clothes Rowena Clarke had.  
  


Her thoughts were then cut off by her friend question: "Has it ever happened?" Larry lowered his voice, leaning down his chin. "The green thing?"  
  


Rowena kept her head out, looking out and watching the scene around her. "None...but uh, I've been getting more irritated lately." She revealed to him. "As if my key's trying to tell me something. What about you?"  
  


There was a pause. "Nothing...nada," Larry answered.  
  


"It's been four years. No one's tried to steal the Tablet." She pointed out. "Which surely indicates it's either turning green by itself...or completely the opposite."  
  


"Maybe..."  
  


She eyed him curiously before he quickly glanced back to where Nick and Rebecca were.  
  


"So, you ready to meet him?" He asked, seeing the side of his lips lift.  
  


Knowing who he referred to, she replied, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" She paused. "But in fairness...I'm terrified."  
  


"What, why?" He furrowed his eyebrows.  
  


' _Oh, the list of reasons will be too long for me to explain_ ,' She said to herself. ' _Don't get me started on all these visions I'm getting..._ '  
  


That was partially true. Rowena's visions returned just a few years ago, mostly on things that were too vague to describe whether it was the future or not. Sometimes it was her past, and sometimes it was something to do with her and Salma Atkins. The same woman with the similar Wadjet key.  
  


Though instead, she told him something which she was not afraid to reveal. "His...parents," Rowena admitted. "His parents are who I'm terrified to meet."  
  


"But you've met them?" Larry asked.  
  


"And the last meeting had been me telling them that their son was being forced to be shipped halfway across the world, and then trapped in his own deathbed for the next fifty or so years." She said blandly and then questioned, "How am I supposed to approach them with _that_?"  
  


"Right...forgot that hurdle."  
  


She let out an un-ladylike snort and folded her arms over her chest.  
  


"Well, look. Ahkmenrah won't let them hurt you." Larry assured her. "I mean, you cut your finger one time, and in a microsecond, he was already there cradling you and cursing the evil spirits from trying to take your blood."  
  


"Argh! You and Ahk are terrible!" She groaned, tilting her head back as she heard him stifle a laugh.  
  


Larry then acknowledged what she just said and then defended himself. "I am... not!" He said. "I'm not that bad!"  
  


Slapping his upper arm, Rowena pointed out: "You didn't let Rebecca sort out the knives when she said she was doing conservation with the Huns."  
  


"I... okay maybe I'm a bit protective," Larry admitted, shuffling on his feet. He then interjected, "But Ahk will justify the reason. Also, there are other issues at hand."  
  


"Has anything changed since I left?" She changed the subject once more and asked him.  
  


"I... Rowen, I forgot to tell you something." He spoke, the tone of voice turned into seriousness. "About Cecil."  
  


At the mention of the former night guard, Rowena creased her brows at him and peered her eyes.  
  


"What about him?" She slowly spoke.  
  


Larry began to speak, "I went to visit-"  
  


Though they were interrupted by Rebecca shouting for them across the park. They both looked over to where they were, the two now standing in front of the statue of _Nelson Mandela.  
  
_

"Larry, Rowen!" Rebecca waved at them as she spoke loudly. "Please take a picture of me of Nick."  
  


"Maybe later?" She suggested.  
  


"Yeah." Larry sighed in defeat but could not help but crack a smile. "Apparently, this work trip is now a holiday."  
  


She gave him a grin. "Enjoy it." Rowena informed him, "You can let me know when we're at the museum."


	43. The British Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena and Ahkmenrah finally reunite after six months apart (and also 9 chapters between their farewell). However, their little moment together is cut short when they're rushing to get a tablet fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated! Seriously, I really thought I was going to be behind but the whole week I was stressing about and actually got things done.
> 
> Thank you again for reading this so far.

**Rowena XXXI  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

It was an hour before sundown which Rowena decided to take the three to the museum.  
  


Much of the British Museum was still full of staff and visitors, so it took some time for everyone to leave before the evening security came around. Hopefully, if they were quiet, and the Tablet was safely in the correct place: the museum wasn't going to fully come alive to alert the people in the security room.  
  


Or so she assumed by how the Tablet worked for the past decade.  
  


Either way, Rowena was the Director of the museum - she had learnt to play around the rules in most of her lifespan. Maybe if she was still in her younger years she would follow the moral code that her parents and those around her drilled into her heart and mind. Though the world was not always good and evil. Taking advantage of her power was not the worse things she's done in her life.  
  


Sometimes if she did focus well enough, Rowena could remember her father's voice.  
  


_"The world is a beautiful and dangerous place." He reached his hand into hers. "And you must accept change like a handkerchief."  
  
_

Rowena was glad someone told her that. If no one did, she would have lived her entire life in hatred. Hatred for the childhood she was brought up. But with those simple words, she understood easily that Harold had tried to protect her from the world instead of hiding it from her.  
  


Something she regretted doing to her own daughter.  
  


Anyways, after they entered through the staff gates of the museum, she spotted a familiar figure heading out of the corridor from the changing rooms. Tilly Price was a member of the museum security, more importantly: the one that was in charge of the gates and the cameras.  
  


Her blonde plaited hair was not hard to miss as she waved at her with a cheery attitude. "Hi, Dr Bates!" She greeted her. "Just about to start my shift."  
  


"Hope it goes well." She kindly answered back. "Do remember to take a break between you and David."  
  


The young security guard saluted before striding off to where she was set to work for the next several hours. Rowena could only wish that the young woman wouldn't notice what was happening inside the museum. She made sure of that by keeping the cameras glitching.  
  


She had to thank Nick Daley for that idea.  
  


Next to her, Larry pointed out. "Nice nightguard."  
  


Humming in agreement, she remembered the first time she met the young woman just two years ago. A vibrant girl, filled with passion that drew her and many others once she began working at the British Museum.  
  


"She's a wonderful girl." Rowena smiled sincerely to them. "She's trying to save up some money to go back into education. Wanting to do Law - specifically at Imperial College."  
  


"Wow...so, you know everyone then?" Larry asked her as they walked up the steps to the main halls of the museum.  
  


She explained carefully, "I try my best as the head of the museum to know everyone. But since there are so many people going in and out I've only picked some names some time ago."   
  


The past four years that she hadn't been in the British Museum had allowed a fresh set of faces in several parts of the museum. In particular, the senior curators and the newly hired ones. Those that have worked through the museum for the past several years of her time had either moved out to pursue another career or had taken the senior position. In turn, spaces now appeared which then led to new doctorates helping out in their certain disciplines.  
  


The main part of the museum was grand and exuberant, dwarfing her and the rest of the trio as they ventured through the high-ceiling corridors. The marble and stone made everything dark and cold. But for Rowena: it had given her a sense of homely-warmth.  
  


The British Museum was a part of her, much like the one back in New York. She knew every nook and cranny of this place, even if there was an extension being planned to be built soon - she would know when and where each piece of the artefact was placed in these walls. She wouldn't call it her home, however. As much as she knew inside and out of this place - there were sensitive memories that coincide with this museum which she chose not to keep in her mind.  
  


"Ah, here we go."   
  


They were now at the front entrance of the museum, having taken fifteen minutes to direct themselves from the staff entrance. She could see the large Ionic columns in the front, and the black gates further in the distance. As they faced the left corridor from the front entrance, they would be closer to the Egyptian wing well enough.  
  


"I made sure Antonio had them take him to the Egyptian wing," Rowena informed them, checking her emails to clarify. "I said I'll be doing a free conservation talk with some groups in the morning before we take him down to the archives for a while until we can safely bring him back to New York."  
  


Once they took the left corridor, past the gift shop, they then arrived at the first gallery of displays. A variety of trinkets and brass tokens - all from various parts of Greece and Italy. They then turned to the right - and that was when they entered the main halls of the British Museum.  
  


"Woah..." Nick blew a breath and exclaimed, his voice echoing around the large hall. "So this place is bigger than the New York one right?"  
  


The younger Daley turned to her and she looked over her shoulder and nodded.  
  


"Just a bit," Rebecca commented. "They've got more valuable things, like the African wall of masks and the Greek section is actually filled with marble statues. A lot of things taken from the Empire and Mediterranean trips right?"  
  


"So...basically a lot of stealing," Larry gave her a questioning look.  
  


Rowena slowly answered, trying to form the appropriate words. "If you put it that way, yes. Most are now donated and are paid in the display." She seethed through her teeth. "But some certain...signigificant ones have been criticised to have been stolen from their original places."  
  


"Why?" He questioned, hiding the frown on his lips. "Shouldn't you just give them back?"  
  


"It's not so simple. If a country asks them back and we do return it, others may begin demanding their rights to the artefacts." Rowena explained to them briefly. "Politics is the backbone of history sometimes, and it's a pain in the ass. But without the artefacts, there won't be a collection. And no collection means no income."  
  


That was another understatement of the century for Rowena, for whom lived and struggled through the dirty side of her career in playing politics with the men of the world. It was why there was a secret war between keeping Ahkmenrah and his parents safe in Britain for as long as she could, hoping they could stay together for longer.  
  


But of course, promises were made and the young pharaoh was shipped off whilst the French and Egyptian governments demanded him back.  
  


Rebecca clicked her fingers and said, "It's why it took America ages to pay Egypt back for taking Ahk's body to New York." She continued, "Since it was still in French occupation, it's been demanded back ever since."  
  


"And I've been stopping it just in case some people have just discovered the Tablet's magic," Rowena grumbled, knowing well enough how many times the French Antiquities kept slipping about it in her board meetings. The tablet turning green was already an issue; if someone else got the tablet and didn't know the truth behind it - who knew what chaos would entail?  
  


"Is that why they split _them_ up?" Nick wondered. "Do you think?"  
  


It took a few seconds to realise that Nick was referring to Ahkmenrah and his parents. ' _Did someone in the expedition know the truth of the Tablet?_ ' Rowena hummed as she pondered. "I'm not so sure, Nick." She revealed something which hadn't been discussed with anyone other than herself and Ahkmenrah.  
  


She shuddered to think if they have been played for the past century.  
  


"I wasn't in charge until twenty years ago. It was the British and American antiquities which told me to send them separately." She said. "We won't know for certain tonight. I will look through it after we deal with our foremost issue."  
  


They took another five minutes to arrive at the Egyptian wing, winding through the large tall doors and corridors until they found familiar artefacts laid across the hall. Not as large as the Museum in Cairo, the Egyptian wing of the British Museum still one of the most valuable pieces and artefacts of Ancient Egypt. Many sarcophagi, statues and thrones were kept in glass cases. Golden walking sticks to sceptres and headdresses were displayed behind a protective wall, illuminated by LED lights.  
  


Where the museum team placed Ahkmenrah's crate was in the front part of the wing, which allowed access for anyone to spectate or look about - according to what Rowena proposed to Antonio and the Egyptian Conservation team.  
  


Once she saw the large wooden object in the middle of the empty area, Rowena checked her phone once more before tucking it away in her pocket and headed off to turn the lights on.  
  


"Sun should be down in twenty seconds," Larry said aloud, checking his watch.  
  


Nick and Larry decided to remove the top lid of the crate, stepping back in line to where she and Rebecca stood. In her, Rowena's heart was thumping fast - sucking in her breath once the twenty seconds were off.  
  


She knew it was sunrise the moment she saw tiny specks of light glow from the cracks of the crate. The tablet glowed, and afterwards - the sound of creaking stone echoed into her ears.

Thousands of packing styrofoam scattered out into the air and landed on the marble floor. She clamped her lips, stopping herself from nervously chattering her teeth. But even so, she could feel her fingers twitch, urging to go forward first to greet him.  
  


' _Why are you nervous?_ ' She asked herself. ' _You've seen him six months ago, and heard him just a week ago._ '  
  


Another part of her then whispered to her: ' _You're scared what he will say when he finds out. What you've been doing the past few years..._ '  
  


' _No._ ' Rowena protested. ' _Why would I be afraid?_ '  
  


' _Because you're afraid of what his parents will say when they discover what you did to him._ '  
  


Suddenly, a figure rose from the crate facing their head away from her. Though the moment she saw the golden crown and attire, the heart beneath her breast raced. The figure climbed out of the crate; their jewellery rustling in his movements.  
  


He groaned, stretching his arms out. "Oh thank _Ra_ finally!" Adjusting his crown, he let out another yawn and added, "I thought I'd be stuck in this stuffy old sarcophagus forever-" Ahkmenrah then stopped his words once his eyes caught hers.  
  


There was a moment which she felt a small breath leave her mouth. Nothing could come out of her lips, transfixed at seeing him once more.  
  


' _Why is he staring? Do I truly look different from the last time?_ ' She asked herself.  
  


His voice music to her ears when he spoke out. "Rowen..."  
  


She couldn't help but grin, her heart skipping another beat. "Good evening, " Rowena said to him.  
  


And with that, she yelped as she felt his arms lift her off the ground to spin her around. Her throat tightened, caught off guard by the way he twirled her around before placing her down gently. One thing was for sure: his golden-brown eyes never left hers.  
  


They were slightly dulled by the dim lights of the hall, though they still glowed as much as they usually did. Trailing her hands up to his shoulders, she leaned into his body into an embrace. She inhaled, smelling the comfort of papyrus and palm trees which soothed the ache in her chest.  
  


When she gazed up again, his hands cupped her face to study her. A finger caressed over her cheeks gently, leaning his head down to press his forehead against hers.  
  


She could tell he hadn't change for the past six months, with the obvious reason due to the Tablet always regenerating him most nights.  
  


Though, Rowena did brush her eyes on several scars and bruises on his neck and cheek which quickly alarmed her. Where on earth did he get these? They didn't look like a week old, so she assumed it must have been from the night programme dinner.  
  


She's going to have a word with him about that.  
  


He whispered with a tone filled with love, "I missed you so much."  
  


"I missed you too," Rowena spoke softly, matching him with the same adoration in her voice.  
  


Suddenly, she was pulled out of the embrace. Eyes wandering over her face - or more particularly her head - his eyes widened in shock.  
  


"Your hair..." He questioned. "What did you do to your hair?"  
  


Okay, that was not what she expected.  
  


That was when she frowned, stepping back before snootily raising her eyebrow at him. Really, after six months: that was the first comment he said to her. Internally, she wanted to snort back. As much as she loved the man in front of her, he was still not used to the modern ways entirely. Hair was a sacred part of the Egyptian lifestyle, symbolising one's status and position in society. Much like her original generation, which had many exaggerative and elegant hairstyles to show wealth and status. Rowena could only be thankful for the idea of large updos fruit in hair had not succeeded in the 21st Century.   
  


Perhaps cutting her hair entirely was a bit too much for him, knowing well enough that he adored her hair and loved plaiting it most of the time. Rowena could only hope Ahkmenrah understood her choices.  
  


Ahkmenrah then stuttered, "I...I mean it looks wonderful on you, **_mer ek_**."  
  


Rolling her eyes, she gave him an amused look. "Admit it. You don't like it," Rowena said.  
  


His eyes flashed in alarm, and he immediately responded, "No!" He stammered, "I think it looks beautiful on you, **_mer ek_**. Truly!"  
  


' _Stop teasing him, Clarke_.' She told herself but she couldn't help it. Seeing the pharaoh easily untangle from a simple comment was a sight to behold.  
  


She shook her head, repressing (and failing) a smile. In the end, Rowena chuckled whilst giving Ahkmenrah another reassuring hug. "I am just jesting, my love." She muttered under his chin.  
  


"I really do miss you." He murmured next to her ear as he tucked his head over her shoulder.  
  


"Terribly so, I admit!"  
  


That voice caught her off guard.  
  


Head spinning to where she heard the voice, Rowena's jaw slacked at discovering a figure standing inside the crate Ahkmenrah came from. She stepped out of Ahkmenrah's grasp, edging closer to the wax figure. She wasn't sure if she was imagining things or not.   
  


However, she heard both Rebecca and Larry gasping out loud - knowing now that this was an unexpected outcome.  
  


"Teddy?" Rowena questioned, cracking up a smile of disbelief. "What are you doing here?"  
  


The President of the United State of America was positioned at one end of the crate, just outside the stone sarcophagus - his stance poised and confident. Straightening his shoulders and twitching the ends of his moustache, Theodore Roosevelt clambered out of the crate and walked over to her.  
  


He had not changed at all. His uniform - however - had changed; new badges and medals were adorning his coat and a new set of black boots on his feet. But with his face and body, her wax-statue friend was identical.  
  


Teddy answered, "Well I couldn't leave Lawrence, Ahk and the tablet in danger!" He exclaimed, darting his eyes over to Larry, Rebecca and Nick and then to hers. "Our very survival is at stake!"  
  


Once she approached him, She hugged the former president tightly, grinning up to him. "It's still so good to see you." Rowena kindly spoke. "It has been too long."  
  


They moved away from their embrace, letting Rowen fall back to Ahkmenrah's side. Whilst she did so, Teddy brushed some styrofoam from his uniform - a genuine smile on his lips. "Never too long for us, my dear girl." He answered.  
  


The mischievous smile never left Teddy's lips, quickly letting her face dart up to Ahkmenrah with a questionable expression. Luckily, it wasn't long to see a peeved look on her boyfriend's face.  
  


"Well, the others felt, perhaps, we could use some help." Ahkmenrah tried to explain, biting his lip.  
  


' _Does he usually look sexy when he bites his lip-_ '  
  


Rowena mentally slapped herself. ' _Stop, you're just being excessive!_ ' Whilst her head was having a tug of war with her, she asked back: "You do realise I run this museum, _amicus meus_?"  
  


He shushed her, sending her snorting at his remark. They both knew who was right, of course.  
  


In the next second, more styrofoam exploded out of the crate. Now there was a large bulky man dressed in dark clothing and furs. Her eyes lit up to see the familiar Hun be with them.   
  


"Rowen." Attila the Hun bowed his head. "It is good to see you again, little hawk."  
  


The mention of her nickname warmed her heart, bowing her head curtly before the leader. "And to you as well, Attila."  
  


"Attila." Larry blurted out, staring at the three exhibits in front of them. "Right okay, I guess some muscle might be of use."  
  


At the same moment, another figure rose out of the box.  
  


Sacagawea's wandered to hers and she softly spoke, "Hello, Rowen."  
  


After the Native American woman stepped out of the box with the help of Teddy, Rowena walked over to her and greeted her in a tight hug. "Sac! You came as well." She happily said.  
  


A bright grin graced Sacagawea's lips, looking to her friend. "Well, I couldn't miss the opportunity, my friend." She commented, "You look beautiful as always."  
  


Her cheeks were flushed and tight, probably from all the smiling, she's been doing. But she couldn't help it. Her friends have come to the UK and had the same excitement seeing her. Though nothing could match her heartache at seeing one of her dearest friends like Sacagawea. The Native American woman has always been like an older sister to her and would always take personal matters in her hands.  
  


The past four years, despite being away most of the year, led her, Rebecca and Sacagawea to form a tight bond. Those four years spent teaching, researching and most of the time talking about their own stories of their childhood, gave each of them the trust they needed. Sacagawea was a woman that took care of her family and friends and treated people respectively.   
  


But Sacagawea was also open to revealing her doubts and worries - often about her relationship with the former president standing next to her. Even being calm, confident and collected: even a statue like her had the mind of the historical woman she once was. Rowena knew from a glance that she was missing something important for her: and that was a child. She forgot that the real Sacagawea had a child: Jean Baptiste.  
  


Rowena had to remind herself (and probably Sacagawea) that they were just exhibits. But in truth - they were as much human (or animal) as anything else. Maybe the longer they stayed alive, the more they become who they once were before their death.  
  


Hopefully, Rowena and Rebecca would grant the Native American's wish one day. Maybe after all of this Tablet thing going on.  
  


Rowena pointed out, "You as well." She complimented, "I love the new beads and dress."  
  


"Thank you. I must say Rebecca's team has been really kind to me to give me a new set." Sacagawea glanced at the New York Curator, who smiled brightly and nodded her head.  
  


"That's a deceptively large box," Larry commented with a tone of disbelief. Rebecca let out a chuckle, before soothing him from getting any more annoyed. "Rowen, you sure this is fine?"  
  


She answered, "As long as we stick together until we sort the Tablet out."  
  


"Obviously, we came along too!"  
  


Appearing in Attila's hand were two certain miniatures. The first miniature had been the Roman, who exclaimed in seeing her first. Next to him was his cowboy partner, clicking his boots against the palm of the Hun's hand.  
  


Jedediah shouted, "You know you'd be lost without us Gigantor!"  
  


Rowen beamed and cried, "Jed, Octavius!"  
  


The mini cowboy shouted. "Gigantress! Oh, it's so good to see you!" He said, "It's been darn too long since you've been gone!"  
  


Next to him, the Roman general nodded in agreement. "Indeed! Why Ahk has been moping ever since you left again back in January." He explained, "Always walking about and brooding. Why he can't even have the nerve to pick up the phone- Ow!" He let out a curse after getting hit by a packing peanut.  
  


Ahkmenrah glared daggers up to the miniatures and said, "You continue talking and I will _not_ hesitate to flick you back into the packing peanuts, Roman."  
  


There was a large squeal, and she giggled, letting the capuchin crawl up her to perch on her shoulder. Her head leaned against Dexter, letting the small mammal kiss her cheek.  
  


"Well, six months hasn't changed you at all." She paused before changing the subject. "Could I see it?"  
  


Picking up the Tablet from the sarcophagus, Ahkmenrah gently passed it into her hands. She brushed her fingers over the golden panels. It was visible in the eye, seeing the green-grey taint the gold with brittle rough specks. The corrosion appeared at the bottom first, before snaking upwards into the panels.  
  


For her, there was a cold ill-feeling that surged up her fingertips, lacing into the golden pendant she wore around her neck.  
  


_"What are you- oh for gods' sake! Bates! No!" She cried, running straight into him and pushing his body out of the way.  
  
_

_Then there was a flash of light and her world turned dark soon after.  
  
_

_"Joanna!"  
  
_

_She let out a gasp, coughing up as much air.  
  
_

_She couldn't feel anything at all. Even the cold.  
  
_

_"Joanna...Joanna..."  
  
_

_She got up, crawling over to his side. Desperate hands trying to grab his face. "Harry? Harry! It's okay, I've got you."  
  
_

_"How- you're alive." His eyes were wide open, looking at her as if he was seeing a ghost.  
  
_

_Rowena Clarke gulped. She had died again, and this time - it didn't feel as painful as before.  
  
_

_Slowly letting his body sling over hers, she began picking him up. "I can't explain here. We've got to go."  
  
_

Rowena felt suffocating until she passed the Tablet to Larry and took a shuddered breath.  
  


Glancing back up, Rowena questioned them of the Tablet. "Has the corrosion gotten worse?"  
  


"No, it's been like this ever since." Ahkmenrah proclaimed, never leaving his eyes from the Tablet.  
  


Rowena wondered out loud, "Has it affected any of you after the..." She trailed off, trying to form the correct words. "...the show?"  
  


"Not anything drastic that it affects us entirely," Teddy answered, his tone plainly hiding the discomfort he wore.  
  


"We're more tired somehow." Jedediah shrugged. "Sometimes we can remember. Sometimes we don't."  
  


She stared at the rest of them, unsure of how to interpret the cowboy's statement. What did he mean 'remember'? We're they remembering their moments when they were still alive? Most of the exhibits knew their past lives, so surely they knew-  
  


' _Oh_.' Rowena realised. ' _They're remembering their deaths._ ' She knew only one person that remembered the feeling vividly, and that was the pharaoh beside her. So to hear the rest recalling and sensing their deaths made her chest tighten.   
  


More importantly, she never knew of her friend's certain life. Maybe a lifetime ago, he would have been an actual full-sized human. Where everyone would call him by the name of Jedediah. She wondered throughout her years with the exhibits if he ever had a family, a previous lover. How did his life come to an end? From the tone of his voice and the expression he wore - Rowena presumed it was nothing peaceful.  
  


 _'No one should remember their death..._ '  
  


Rowena hummed. "Well, one thing's for sure, I can sense it. Or the Wadjet more specifically. Like it's sick or something." She exhaled and then gestured with her hand. "Well, we better get going. Just down the hall, there is a section where we put most of the artefacts from your tomb here."  
  


As the group began walking to the direction she told them, Rowena fell behind the group - with Ahkmenrah subtly falling to her side. Dexter had gone to crawl up to Nick's shoulder instead, playing with the young Daley. She continued staring forwards, letting her hands slowly intertwine with the pharaoh next to her.  
  


He whispered down to her and admitted: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things-" Ahkmenrah was interrupted by her finger shutting his mouth.  
  


Rowena stared at him in disbelief. What was he saying?   
  


Then she saw his clouded eyes and she partially understood. He was getting nervous - and worried.  
  


Before he could speak, she then cut him off with her lips.   
  


Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and his shoulders relaxed.  
  


When she pulled back, Rowena asked, "Better?"  
  


He sheepishly smiled, nodding back. "Much so."  
  


Rowena commented as they dragged their distance from the group. "Never knew you began brooding."  
  


A struggled cough came from Ahkmenrah and he glared straight to where Jedediah and Octavius were. "I don't brood," He stated. "...I like to think deeply sometimes and tend to stare off in the distance."  
  


Raising an eyebrow, she replied. "So, brooding then?"  
  


"Rowen."  
  


She cheekily smiled back and teased. "You know I love you really, _amicus meus_."   
  


Letting out a sigh, he stopped in his track and faced her. She worriedly glanced up, seeing the facade he wore begin to wear off. "I love you too, _**mer ek**_." Ahkmenrah confessed. "I'm am only nervous. It's been sixty-two years since I've seen them. For them, it's probably just been a night."  
  


Rowena was then immediately sent to the thoughts she'd been trying not think about since this morning with Larry. Not only Ahkmenrah would be reunited with his parents; she would have to be there during the time. Are they going to hate her?  
  


Even with her worries, she knew she had to think first about him and the Tablet. So, she tried her best to calm herself for him.  
  


Careful with her words, she asked: "What happens to them if the Tablet isn't around?"  
  


Ahkmenrah answered, "I never knew." He wondered. "But perhaps they are in the _**Duat**_ , or another realm entirely. Death is a fickle thing when it comes with the Tablet which grants life. And I am not one entirely, to begin with."  
  


"Ah right, your brother."  
  


"Yes. Our people always pictured death as just another part of our life. We would go to the Fields of _**Auru**_ and we would continue a life of peace with our family. But now... it's not so simple." With a melancholy tone, he spoke: "Death is as far to us as much as it's as close. It's there, but we will never be able to touch it."  
  


His eyes lingered over to her chest, the golden coin never ridding of its glow. Subconsciously, Rowena felt her fingers trace over the Wadjet key, sensing a wave of comfort to be near it. But even then, there was trouble that never edged away. Like death, it was the key around her neck that stopped her from reaching her end.  
  


It was why she couldn't tell him the truth. The things she had done the past four years under his nose. Their noses.   
  


The late nights. The alcohol stored in the back of her house. The hidden packet of cigarettes in her bag that she'd blended with her makeup bag. Rowena knew old habits die hard. It wasn't her fault; she blamed the 20th century introducing her to tobacco and smoking. That was the other benefits of being immortal, anything deadly for a human was nothing to her.  
  


But then the smoking and the alcohol led to her mind locked in a cage. She would lay awake all night - recall the worse memories she'd forced into the darkest depth of her mind. Of course, nothing is gone forever.  
  


Sometimes it would just be snippets of the war; Harry and Peggy. But then it would be things far older. Of her time during the 19th Century and Egypt. Rowena tried her best to ignore the dreams, and think of the present.  
  


Perhaps Ahkmenrah was right. They could never touch death as long as they had the Tablet and the Wadjet key.  
  


' _Remember_ ,' She told herself. ' _His mind and heart are clouded from his parents. He is afraid. And his bitterness is his defence mechanism._ '  
  


She gulped.  
  


' _He needs you, Rowena.'  
  
_

Without the Wadjet key, she would never be here. To stand in front of the man that was here before her. Who she knew was in the same situation before her.   
  


In her mind, there was always some optimism. Perhaps with her and Ahkmenrah, maybe she could finally live a happy life. A forever that would last an eternity.  
  


"Immortality hasn't been so lonely lately though." Rowena finally spoke, swallowing the bile that rose to her throat. Her lips twitched, but the smile never formed. " _Amicus meus_ , do not feel like you're alone. You have me and everyone here who came with you. They are here not because of the Tablet, but because of you. They want to help you."  
  


Hand cupping his cheek, Ahkmenrah leaned his head into her palms. She stared up to him once more, watching his eyes flutter open. Never would she be bored by his captivating gaze.  
  


Rowena continued, "I know, _amicus meus_." She spoke, "Maybe they will finally give you the answers you've been seeking for so long."  
  


He hummed; murmuring. "Perhaps..."   
  


She gave him one last peck on the lips, before asking him. "Do you want me to be with you?"  
  


"If that's alright with you," Ahkmenrah answered, a small hopeful smile on his lips.  
  


Rowena smiled back, keeping her hand tightly in his. "I will be by your side at all times."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**Ahkmenrah XIII  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

The nerves were bubbling in his stomach in each step he took towards the place his parents resided.   
  


His parents. Ahkmenrah hadn't seen them for almost sixty years.   
  


The last time he saw them was in Cambridge, and that was a hasty mess of tears and mixed emotions. He had been angry and distraught from being forced to part from them, after being together for over four millennia in a tomb. His parents shared the same experience and demanded the Guardian of Cambridge to change the British and American Museums' minds on taking him away.  
  


Though the prospect of seeing something new on his own exhilarated him. He wanted to finally be away for once. To be his own person and not just the pharaoh's second son.  
  


And then his dreams got crushed by the nightguards chaining him up all night.  
  


' _Stop thinking about the bad things,_ ' He chided to himself. 'Think about the Tablet first. Think about your friends.'  
  


His eyes immediately went to the figure walking beside him and his chest slightly relaxed.  
  


' _And think of her..._ ' Ahkmenrah reminded. ' _Rowen is nervous as much as you are.'  
  
_

Their short slow walk through the Egyptian Exhibit of the British Museum was a comfort before the storm. He did not care for anyone watching him lace his fingers around hers, holding her hand as they strolled through. It had been months since they've seen each other, and every meeting it had led to them being more desperate to never part.  
  


He could only hope the woman by his side thought of him at the same level. He had fallen hard in love with Joanna Bates before he even realised himself. However, when they met again, it was too easy to fall in love with Rowen Bates. The same woman but with two different names - two different lives. And it was another three years that he could accept that he didn't see her as Joanna anymore, but Rowen.  
  


Maybe one day, she would finally introduce herself as Rowena Clarke.  
  


"So the museum is waking up for the first time, so I supposed it might be a bit confusing for some of the exhibits." Her voice cut him off his mind, talking out loud to his friends in front. "Especially with what we've got here. We don't tend to have a lot of wax figurines."  
  


Ahkmenrah didn't need to argue back on the statement. Everything that he was seeing had to be genuine. With broken obelisks, statues and columns, they all had the familiar design and form he remembered once in his homelands.  
  


Rebecca, despite being hidden by Attila in front, was the one who guided them down the corridor of Egyptian artefacts.   
  


"You've been here before?" Larry asked his fiancee, a little curious by the tone of his voice.  
  


The curator nodded. "When I was in university. There was a trip to go here and I got to study your ancestry Ahk." She glanced over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows at him. "Well, the people ahead of your time. The Ptolemys."  
  


His eyebrows furrowed, trying to recall the familiar name. Then he realised, before curling his tongue back and biting it down between his teeth. Ahkmenrah said, "Ah, they were a...an interesting group."  
  


Rowen hid a laugh with a cough, and he nudged her arm to quieten her. But she snorted instead, elbowing him back whilst he grumbled back. Learning about the future of his kingdom was an interesting part of their time together...and most of the time it was not a good thing.  
  


The Ptolemys were not even purely Egyptian descent, with the last pharaoh losing Kemet to the Romans. Not that he had anything against Octavius. But Ahkmenrah still felt offended after discovering his country being overtaken by foreigners. His last few years alive was spent fighting in the front lines in keeping Kemet from the Huns themselves.  
  


But he had to remind himself. That was a long time ago, and he was very different from the young man he once was.  
  


The topic didn't change as they continued heading in the right direction. Even the only Roman in the group piped in. "I didn't know Caesar that well...but he was a decent man." He made a disgusted noise. "Terrible taste in women."  
  


Jedediah's concerned - and suspicious - voice interrogated. "And how would you know?"  
  


"Well..." Octavius trailed off.  
  


Whilst the two miniature bickered once more, Ahkmenrah couldn't help but smirk at the two. At least it was one way to get back at them for teasing him.  
  


Rowen asked him, "Are the two like this?"  
  


"And you believe they haven't changed?" He questioned back, huffing. "They're always like this."  
  


They soon arrived at what seemed to be a large chamber. In the exhibit, Ahkmenrah felt familiar with the decoration and artefacts. In the middle were two sarcophagi, with the lids open.  
  


' _These walls..._ ' He thought. ' _They are from my tomb._ ' Ahkmenrah's eyes lingered too long tho at the wall straight on.   
  


Where a certain tablet could easily be slotted inside.  
  


"These walls," He spoke under his breath. "I know these walls..."  
  


Nick cut the silence and asked, "Um, should the lids be closed?"  
  


The Guardian of Brooklyn muttered, "Must've gotten out already."  
  


A figure then walked into the room. Not walked - glided.  
  


Nothing he had seen in many years, the figure entered the room like a graceful swan. Her dress trailing behind her and dark hair braided down both her shoulders. Her lips were stained red, with eyes lined with kohl and eyes that were similar in shape as his own.  
  


"Ahkmen..." The woman breathed and stared up to him.  
  


Right in front of him - was Shepseheret herself.  
  


His breath hitched as he rasped, "Mother."  
  


Tears in her eyes began to form, as she cried softly. "My son...Oh, you have returned!" Shepseheret whispered up to him. "I thought I lost you..."  
  


He took her into his arm, cradling her head carefully. His heart could be beating so loudly but he didn't care. She was here. His mother was truly here once more.  
  


He shook his head, muttering back. "Never, mama. You know I'll be with you." Ahkmenrah's tone changed, asking. "Where's Father..."  
  


The timing could not have been any perfect, as his father strode into the exhibit. Careful and calculated steps, he marched over to them and stood on the platform beside Shepseheret.  
  


Merenkahre stared at him dead in the eyes. Only speaking as he faced him.   
  


"My son."  
  


He stiffly responded, placing his hand over his chest and bowing slightly. "Father..." He cleared his throat before he continued. "It's good to see you again."  
  


His father hadn't changed in the past few decades. Still the same battle-hardened and apathetic man he has ever come to be related to. There was never a moment which his father could pull down his guard. And it didn't help that there was a lot of people in the room which his father didn't know. In Merenkahre's eyes, his friends were strangers. And as a king, he would treat them below his own status.  
  


That may have been the only thing Ahkmenrah grew to dislike about his father. How he showed his love to his own son for four thousand years was stifling and limited. Ahkmenrah should have been more prepared for this. But with everything going on, he forgot how easily wary Merenkahre of Kemet was.  
  


Thankfully, his mother stopped the awkward staring contest and openly said, "Perhaps you should introduce your companions."  
  


' _Thank Ra for my mother's thinking_ ,' Ahkmenrah sighed internally.  
  


"Of course, mother." He bowed his chin slightly, before lifting it and gesturing to the woman just behind him. "Joanna, though she now goes as Rowen Bates."  
  


Ahkmenrah then stepped to the side and began introducing each person. "The Guardian of Brooklyn: Larry Daley and his son Nick Daley and Larry's betrothed: Rebecca Hutman." Each of them waved and bowed before he continued. "And my dear friends from the New York Museum: Theodore Roosevelt, Sacagawea, Attila the Hun, Jedediah, Octavius and Dexter."  
  


Each of them greeted his parents with various bows and curt nods. Even their capuchin friend squealed and nodded his small head.  
  


A small kind smile graced his face as he spoke, "My friends, this is my parents."  
  


"I am Merenkahre, former Pharaoh of the Nine Kingdoms of Kemet." His father straightened his back, looking over them like his usual authoritarian-self.  
  


Similar and yet more elegant, his mother introduced herself: "And I am Shepseheret, Queen Consort of the Nine Kingdoms of Kemet. The Glittering Jewel of the Nile."  
  


Their English was perfect now, though perhaps it had been the magic of the Tablet once more. Even so, even in a different language: his parents still held the persona in which the title they carried had. Even as their son or not, he couldn't help but admire them.  
  


Their clothes hadn't changed; with gold and jewel adorning her mother and the armour his father wore. The staff and the headdress were pure gold, letting him and the exhibits become blinded by its shine.  
  


Rowen was the first to speak, easily slipping into ancient Egyptian. " _ **It is good to see you once more, your Majesties**." _She smiled kindly, "I apologise that my Egyptian is rusty."  
  


His mother shook her head, only to embrace Rowen. "My dear, you have not changed in many years." Cupping her cheeks, she studied Rowen's face. "Such beauty is still with you, dear guardian."  
  


Ahkmenrah chided, "Mother." It didn't stop him from cracking a grin at her.  
  


"Come now, my son." His mother retorted, pulling away and stepping back beside his father's side. "It has been too long since we've last seen you and the Guardian of Cambridge."  
  


"And how long was that, if I may ask? Since you've seen us?" Merenkahre's voice clearly indicated towards Rowen.  
  


However, Ahkmenrah could tell the moment his eyes glanced to his right the alarm in Rowen's face. Instead, he answered back. "Sixty-two years." Ahkmenrah held his hand up and continued, "But, before you go and blame her. You must realise that Joanna had no choice. Remember what she told us; what she told you. You cannot blame her for something she had no power to change."  
  


Merenkahre inhaled sharply, "She still had the power to defy her higher positions."  
  


His mother gaped back, "What are you saying, Meren? You must remember she's only a tutor at a school. She had no power other than to make sure Ahkmen was safe." Shepseheret raised her voice. "Now apologise for your absurd behaviour!"  
  


"No, it's alright your majesty. I...you're right. What I did was wrong. What I'm probably doing now it worse." Rowen gazed her eyes down, before facing his father once more - now with a face built with many walls.   
  


Ahkmenrah could only trust what his love would say back.  
  


"But we do what we must for duty, right?" She spoke, hinting something they all - but yet none knew about. "And we all know that entirely."  
  


Merenkahre questioned back stoically. "You still hold the Wadjet key."  
  


She nodded her head. "I do." She paused, "But it's not why we're here." Rowen tilted her head upwards, glancing her eyes over to Larry.  
  


The Guardian of Cambridge slowly walked over to them, passing the Tablet into Ahkmenrah's hands. Immediately, he could sense the effect of the magic and the sickness that laid upon it.  
  


Ahkmenrah stretched his arms, showing the artefact to them. "Father, the Tablet has been corroding." He asked. "Is there a way to solve this?"  
  


There was a little bit of hope in his heart, that maybe now: Ahkmenrah will finally hear some truth. He watched his father study the Tablet, his eyes darting from one part to another whilst muttering in his native tongue. Broken phrases which only added more confusion.  
  


Merenkahre finally glanced up back to him and revealed what he had found.  
  


"...I cannot say." His father answered, never looking away from him.  
  


He pried, "Can't or won't?"  
  


His father stayed quiet, tightening his lips.  
  


"Why?" He questioned, already knowing well what his reaction would be. "Is it because it's his and _not_ mine?"  
  


The moment he spoke about it vocally, he already knew what he had caused.  
  


Merenkahre's eyes flashed in a warning. "Do not speak his name." He ordered.  
  


' _Control your emotions, Ahkmenrah._ ' He repeated in his head.  
  


Taking a quick breather, he gritted his teeth and cooly responded. "I will speak about my brother anyhow." Ahkmenrah glared back. "All these four thousand years, you forbade me to never mention him and the time that we desperately need the Tablet - you refuse to tell the truth of why we should never mention Kahmunrah."  
  


Merenkahre stated blandly. "You were too inexperienced. You were not ready."  
  


He snorted, bitterly muttering, "I think we established it afterI was _murdered_."   
  


"Meren, please-"  
  


As his mother tried to stop his father, Shepseheret recoiled back - shutting her lips tight.  
  


His father coldly answered, "You don't want to know the truth."  
  


Ahkmenrah let out a disgusted noise. "You tell yourself that." He spoke with a controlled tone. "Every time I asked, you'd say the same thing."  
  


His father stayed silent, not saying a word.  
  


"The Tablet is affecting my friends and me and you're being selfish because you think I'm not ready? For _Ra_ 's sake, it's been over four-thousands years!" He questioned him, "Is this some way to protect me? From what? Our family? You? Because _your_ father decided to deal with the _**Ennead**_ to become immortal? Because that's rather selfish of him!"  
  


"Ahkmen!" His mother gasped, her hands flying over to her mouth.  
  


Rowen reached an arm to him as she called, "Ahk..."  
  


The anger.  
  


The lies.  
  


The cage that he had bubbled all his anger in had broke.  
  


"NO! I HAD ENOUGH OF THIS. " His voice suddenly raised. Roaring out loud, "This...coddling! This way you believe that's kept me under your wing for centuries. I'm not a child anymore!"  
  


"You died years before. You didn't know what I experienced. How I felt years after you were gone." Ahkmenrah scoffed, continuing to validate his argument. "I never got to see my brother ever since he left to Heliopolis! Next thing I knew, I had a crown shoved on my head the moment I arrived at Memphis. Problem after problem, they thought I was the one that could fix their problems."   
  


Merenkahre didn't speak, only staring at his son in silence.  
  


"Then they came. Not mine nor my brothers, but your enemies." He waved his hand to Shepseheret, who only stared in shock. "I had to watch mother die in front of me, right before Khafre stabbed me!"   
  


There was a round of sharp gasps and noise when the mention of the pretender's name. Khafre was never forgotten in the minds of the exhibits. And definitely not him. Not when the man was the one that sent him to his death as well as his mother.  
  


"And you think this is about our family? To protect what? Our family? My brother? The secrets of staying alive?" Ahkmenrah questioned, lowering his voice dangerously low. "You didn't do it so we could be together."  
  


"No." Merenkahre admitted, "It was not."  
  


"Well, I loath this! This...this whole cycle of constant resurrection and death. I hate having to die every night just so I can live again the evening after!" His hissed back, struggling to keep the tears at bay. "This was not the destiny I wished. It was the one you force me in...Because you didn't watch my brother's back!"  
  


" _ **Your brother wasn't the Guardian of the Tablet.**_ "  
  


He froze.  
  


"What." Ahkmenrah breathed.  
  


The air suddenly grew stagnant.  
  


"You were the Guardian." Merenkahre finally revealed. " _ **You are Khonsu's Guardian.**_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe :) What do you guys think of that plot twist?


	44. Prophecies and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the cliffhanger, Merenkahre explains some of the origins of the Tablet and try to give assurance to Ahkmenrah why he never told him.
> 
> On the other hand, with the Tablet restored, Larry and Rebecca speak of their minds and their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having made you guys wait a week to know what happened in the last chapter. But here it is. Also, thank you for the kudos and the subs and the bookmarks! Still can't get my head around why y'all liking this. It's so bloody long. And I'm the one writing this.
> 
> Iunu - Heliopolis [Ancient Egyptian]
> 
> Waset - Thebes [Ancient Egyptian]

**Ahkmenrah XIV  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

" _ **Your brother wasn't the Guardian of the Tablet.**_ "  
  


_He froze.  
  
_

_"What." Ahkmenrah breathed.  
  
_

_The air suddenly grew stagnant.  
  
_

_"You were the Guardian." Merenkahre finally revealed. " **You are Khonsu's Guardian.** "  
  
_

He had heard many truths before.  
  


But why now that it seemed to cause the most torment for him?  
  


Ahkmenrah couldn't breathe. He had stopped breathing the moment he registered the words his father spoke to him.  
  


He was the Guardian all along.   
  


All those centuries, waiting for a possible key to unlock the cage he had been inside. When in truth: he had been the cage all along - and the Tablet under his shield.  
  


The moment he realised a minute had passed was when small dainty hands slipped into his. A faint silhouette came in front of him. Their hands rubbed the back of his hands slowly, drawing a circle until his heart began to slow. The ringing in his ears dwindled, only sensing his ragged breaths as there was a shush under his ear.  
  


When he finally opened his eyes, Ahkmenrah was facing Rowen once more. Her eyebrows creased to form concern, letting his wander over her dark eyes.  
  


" _Questo è tutto. Sono qui amore mio_." She murmured, trying to pull him back to reality.  
  


On the outside, he was tense. But in his heart and find, there was a sandstorm. Anguish and hatred coursing through his veins that he could feel his blood boil.   
  


He only thanked her for not losing him in the storms in his mind.  
  


He blinked several times, before exhaling loudly. His hands were shaking. Out of anger - mostly. Out of shock - obviously. " _Grazie amore mio. Per avermi riportato indietro."_ Ahkmenrah answered.  
  


The familiar expression of disbelief rested on Rowen until he looked at her with an earnest of trust. He then turned to his parents, unsure to look at them in the eyes right now after what his father said.   
  


"Tell me. Why should I believe you now." Ahkmenrah said with a dead tone.  
  


Merenkahre darted his eyes behind his son and responded. "I will tell you if they leave."  
  


There was a flicker of fury in his chest, making his fingers curl against the palm of his hands. Rowen was by his side, but it felt like she was halfway across the world.   
  


The people behind him were worth more than all the life he had in his tomb. Teddy and Sacagawea were the older siblings he was unexpected to have; Attila was like a dear friend that could simply sit in silence and watch the world go by; Jedediah and Octavius were the annoying pair that he would secretly admit to enjoying bickering with. Rebecca and Larry were his dearest friends, always teaching him about the modern world around him and taking care of him. Nick was the little brother he wished he had, and brought the childish heart he had before. And for Rowen: she was another anchor that had chosen to be at his side.  
  


Not once had these group of people let him down. Moments at the museum where he would finally break down and realise once more who he was and what he was now, they would always be there.  
  


They were the family he truly had these past eight years, and he would deny that he considered them more than the family in front of him now.   
  


"No, they will stay," Ahkmenrah said firmly, grounding his stance in front of his father.  
  


Merenkahre coldly looked at him, a warning tone in his voice. "I will not discuss family matters with a bunch of...strangers."  
  


That snapped him, causing his to hiss back, "They are _my_ family as much as you are!" Ahkmenrah added, "Perhaps even more than you have ever been."  
  


He could tell that his mother was a little hurt by his statement, but he needed to do it. "Perhaps you allow some of them to fix the Tablet first." Shepseheret interrupted, gesturing over to Ahkmenrah's friends.  
  


Merenkahre began, "Shepse-"  
  


But the Queen of Kemet didn't easily cower underneath her husband's voice. With her head chinned up, she ordered coolly: "You will tell them, or would you prefer for I to speak of the suffering to our son instead?"  
  


Merenkahre kept quiet, before inhaling through his nostrils. Approaching Larry, who now stood beside Teddy and Rebecca, his father stared at the nightguard with a calculating gaze. "It must be bathed in moonlight." He further explained, "It will regenerate its magic due to the rays of Khonsu's magic."  
  


' _Of course,_ ' Ahkmenrah realised, but externally avoided reacting the secret. But now, he understood the designs of his Tomb. How some light of the moon was able to radiate down to the wall in which the Tablet was kept. Khonsu was the God of the Moon and Watcher of Night travellers. It was obvious that the creator of the artefact would cast his magic down in the simplest and most effective way.  
  


Though the other question he wanted to ask was who created his tomb themself, and when did they know it was time.  
  


Teddy was the first one to answer back. "Thank you, your majesty. We will do so as of now."  
  


The other exhibits bowed their heads and told him and his parents that they're going to explore the museum whilst Ahkmenrah would talk to his parents. He then looked over to his love and saw her gaze at their friends.  
  


Rowen called to them. "Go, I'll stay."  
  


He was relieved that she didn't leave. He was not sure how he could handle more as his father began his story.  
  


Merenkahre began, "How you came as Khonsu's Guardian, we must go back further. Before your birth, and before my own."  
  


He said with a monotone. "I already know." Ahkmenrah revealed, "The Priests in Waset spoke to me of our family's duty to protect it."  
  


Even after thousands of years, he could still remember that day. Arriving in Waset, only to discover the truth of his visions that there was a secret Tablet that his family kept for many years.  
  


That he would never be able to be united with his family. His brother would have stayed.  
  


But now it was the opposite.   
  


Ahkmenrah would have been the one that would be alone.  
  


His father walked over to his sarcophagus and placed his staff across the surface. His back was now turned, gazing up to the wall that the Tablet should be.  


"You already know that our family was granted the choice to guard the Tablet down to our descendants. But it was more than just that." He spoke out loud. "The First Line of Kings, our ancestors, aided the Gods from a dark terror no mortal human can defeat. It was there that Horus became the God of Kings, blessing his general: Narmer, as the mortal king."  
  


' _Narmer._ ' Ahkmenrah repeated the name in his head. ' _Osaze used to tell us stories of his victories, how he was able to unite Egypt under one rule. He never said about being the general of Horus's mortal army..._ '  
  


Rowen, on the other hand, was fascinated by his father's storytelling, but never strayed off his side.  
  


"Narmer united the Nine Kingdoms and brought what was we know of as Kemet. As our people began to prosper, peace was assured given if we protect the Tablet." Merenkahre continued, now facing both Ahkmenrah and Rowen. "The Ennead gave Narmer the Tablet, for that our line will protect the Tablet until its true Guardian will be born. And when they are born, they will take their place as its protector and strengthen the mortal realm from the darkness and evil."  
  


"No one knew who it will be, and what it could bring to the line of kings. The **_Ennead_** , more importantly: Khonsu hadn't revealed who his chosen was." Dark brown eyes then stared right at Ahkmenrah's in focus, before darting back towards the side. "Your grandfather, Snefru, had begun to worry and wain. It has been four generations since and the Guardian was not yet born. He would yet to believe then that his son, my brother, would have to endure another lifetime protecting it until his son would take his place."  
  


Ahkmenrah noticed a flicker of remembrance in Merenkahfre's face, and a slight bit of guilt rested on his heart. He was not the only one that would never see his brother again.  
  


"However, that day never came." Merenkahre's voice grew quiet, but still enough to hear from their distance. "My brother died before he could ascend the throne. And I was chosen as the next King of Kemet. That had made things problematic. None in our entire family line has had the second child as the temporary guardian of the Tablet and we worried that maybe that Khonsu had lost our trust."  
  


His father then glanced over to Shepseheret.  
  


"Years past and I married your mother. Your brother was then born, and I hoped there would be a sign from the temple or the priestess that he was the Guardian." He revealed, now staring back at Ahkmenrah. "They spoke of how he would be a gift to watch over the ones he loved and will be there in times of needs. We then assumed it was him, that he was Khonsu's Guardian."  
  


There was a but at the end of his sentence.  
  


Ahkmenrah questioned, "What happened then."  
  


"Then the news of your mother being with child came...the child being you," Merenkahre answered. "That was when we were summoned by the Oracle of Iunu, who spoke of a prophecy."  
  


Opening his mouth, but it was not his voice that asked.  
  


"What prophecy?" Rowen blurted.  
  


His father gave the Guardian of Cambridge a blank look, analysing her movements. He was judging her again. Ahkmenrah knew well that even all this time, his father would never see anything good or special in Rowen or Joanna.  
  


Merenkahre did answer: "Known as the messenger between the realm of mortals and the Gods, messenger of Hemsut: Goddess of Fate; the Oracle spoke of a time of darkness yet to come. A time when the darkness will overcome the good in secret and the taint of the God of Chaos will fracture the Heka Guardians and the prevention of the Last Guardian to arise."  
  


He bit his lip, grinding his teeth. He wanted to ask more.  
  


However, his father continued. "It spoke of two kings. One will be slain in a brutal death, whilst the other will watch the world turn against him."  
  


The realisation then hit him in a wave.  
  


He thought, ' _The prophecy was talking about me and him._ '  
  


And his father's face answered his question enough.  
  


"We did not believe in the last part. That both of you would come to a horrible end. It was why we made sure your safety was held at a high standard. Even if we did not know who of the two of you were the guardian, we decided to train both of you in secrecy." Merenkahre's voice faltered, before coughing. "Both mind and body, we wanted you prepared to protect the Tablet if our enemies outrun us. It was why I told Kahmunrah first of the Tablet."  
  


"I didn't tell you yet because I know what it is like. To be the second son of a king. To be the spare. My father himself trained me. Brutal and harsh. He made sure both I and my older brother was prepared to be king." His voice somehow got softer, ears relaxing at him. "I wanted to give you the time you deserved. I did not want you or your brother to lose each other's trust because of the throne."  
  


Ahkmenrah didn't expect this, that he was gulping the last breath he drew.  
  


It was difficult to comprehend and to know if it was true, but he could not help but find his father's words truly honest. He never knew his grandfather, and never had he met his uncle during his childhood. But by Merenkahre's voice, it told the love and care his father had of his family.   
  


Merenkahre didn't want to cause him pain because of his own past.   
  


"But indeed. It seemed it didn't prepare you for the inevitable." His father's pained look made him want to move to him. "I tried my best to make sure I prepare you, but it would seem I was blinded. I didn't want the prophecy to come true."  
  


Closing his eyes, Merenkahre took a slow inhale. "So, when the death of Kahmunrah came, I realized that I made a mistake. His sudden death with no proper burial to connect his _**Ka**_ to the Auru complicated his position as the next guardian." He looked at them and continued, "I consulted with the Ennead. To allow me to aid you and your mother to restore stability, but none but one heard my call. _**Ese**_."  
  


Ahkmenrah muttered under his breath. "Isis."  
  


He nodded. " ** _Ese_**...was one of two who chose the Guardian of the Wadjet Key. She told me that this was the only way, despite how I pleaded if there was any other way. She could only say that only _her_ guardian can control the prophecy, who was already chosen at that point."  
  


Merenkahre's eyes then went to Rowen's.  
  


"Me?" From the corner of his eyes, he saw her expression of confusion. "But I was not born yet." She answered.  
  


Along with her, Ahkmenrah was also on the same page. If the Goddess had already chosen who her guardian was, where was she? He knew that Rowen hadn't been born for a long time. The stories she had told him of her past never mentioned anything he could recollect his own past too. He could only assume she was much younger, but her soul as the Guardian may be older than everyone suspected.  
  


He's read some things such as this. The idea of reincarnation and the rebirth of one's soul. Perhaps it was something similar.  
  


"Guardians can be reborn. A cycle in which could allow the artefacts to be protected at all times. There was a guardian before you, who had somehow perished or given up their power before passing them to your hands. Something I am unsure as of who or what occurred." He told him and Rowen. " _But_ Khonsu's Guardian would forever only be one. By the time you died, it was then Khonsu revealed that you were the Tablet's guardian."  
  


"However, it was too late. Your Ka and Ba were now separate. The Tablet was going to lose its power.... until something happened." Merenkahre added.  
  


Ahkmenrah inquired, "What happened?"  
  


"I could not remember exactly. But the last moments of which I thought was my final breath in the mortal realm: I woke up again." Merenkahre glanced his eyes around the room, eyeing his own sarcophagus. His father was remembering the first time he was revived. "In a new tomb. The Tablet was restored at some cost. I do not know who did it."  
  


Inhaling through his nostrils, he still felt frustrated at his father. Everything he's said hadn't answered his dire question. He could tell that his father was trying to divert the question either way, despite trying to relate the situation to his own past.  
  


No; there was something deeper behind it all. He only had to choose to ask it. But he wasn't a child anymore. He couldn't scream and shout and wail until his mother would soothe him. Ahkmenrah had lived too long with his parents that they'll know what his habits were.   
  


It was why he did something unexpected.  
  


"Why?" He quietly asked, but the anger was still in his voice. "Why did you lie to me? That I was the Guardian and not him."  
  


"Because if you were discovered as Khonsu's Guardian, our enemies would find out," Merenkahre answered firmly. "Our tomb had many robbers. And if any mention of Khonsu's Guardian being the pharaoh of Kemet, they will know. And word will get around that the Tablet is there."  
  


He asked, "Did Khufu know? And Khafre and Djedefre?"  
  


"No. Only me and your mother...and now you as well." His father hesitated in the last part.  
  


Ahkmenrah wasn't so sure if he had been telling the truth. He was never skilled in knowing the truth or lie until the time of Cambridge and New York arrived. But even then, a few years with new people didn't equate to the lie detector next to him.  
  


The Guardian of Cambridge knew the truth and lie with a simple look. And when he saw Rowen look at his father, her lips twitched as she instantly gave him a look that none of his parents saw.  
  


It would seem there was more to the truth.  
  


Ahkmenrah then asked him another question. "Then why rid of us? Our name; our legacy?"  
  


"If they rid our family, it will allow them to discover the Tablet. No temporary guardian meant the Tablet would become exposed." Merenkkahre's voice grew dark, giving a cold glare up at the walls of the tomb around them. "Their god would allow them to use it."  
  


"Use it for what?" Rowen asked.  
  


His father didn't reply immediately, wandering his eyes over to the hieroglyphics and art painted around them. In particular, Merenkahre had been looking at one of the walls that held a familiar story.  
  


"Something very dangerous, and something that we wish is a myth," Merenkahre muttered, shutting his eyes.  
  


It forced him to look at the wall. The painting of the Ennead, the most known gods of Egypt and was known to have the largest followers in the kingdoms. It showed a picture of Osiris being killed and cut up to pieces by the God of Chaos. His body sent to all different parts of the known world. Osiris' wife would then take years to find his body and stitch him up again. Along with the aid of the other gods such as Nephthys, Osiris would forever guard the afterlife. Horus, son of Isis, would then declare a war of the God of Chaos.  
  


Ahkmenrah knew what myth he was referring to.  
  


The Tale of Horus and Set.  
  


He hissed through his teeth. "You're lying. It is just a myth."  
  


"I wish it was." His father answered. "But the gods are not liars."  
  


' _No. But why didn't you tell me either way? Our family. Our history? Why did you tell to us like they were just fairytales?_ '  
  


Internally, he was screaming. But Ahkmenrah could feel his composure already slipping.  
  


"What do I do with this? Everything that you've said." Ahkmenrah raised his voice, pleading him.  
  


Merenkahre's eyes narrowed, a grim look on his face. "I have a feeling that the corrosion of the Tablet was not by its own doing."  
  


"What?" He widened his eyes.  
  


Shepseheret whispered under her breath. "Someone had laid a curse on it on purpose." Worried eyes now rested on his. "They knew you were coming."  
  


Ahkmenrah could sense the tremor and shock his partner felt. In instinct, he should have reached for her hand - to reassure Rowen that she was fine. But he couldn't move.  
  


He asked, "Who?"  
  


"Them. Ahk." He turned to his side, to find Rowen seem more panicked. "The people who have been trying to kill me."  
  


He searched the answers on her face, and immediately caught the terror in her eyes.   
  


The people who have chased Rowen all her life? Or was it this... Order Cecil Fredricks was involved with? In fact, was it all the same?  
  


This was all too much.   
  


' _Guardian...Tablet...Khonsu...Khufu...Prophecy...Rowen..._ '   
  


Those words kept repeating in his mind like a spinning top. Why did it feel like he was back in tomb once more? It was just like the first time he had woken up after his initial death. He couldn't breathe. The room was spinning, his mind blurring as the words echoed.  
  


He had to go.  
  


This wasn't happening. He should never have brought the Tablet here. There would have been another way-  
  


"...Ahkmen?"   
  


"Don't!" He snapped, startled by his mother's worried gaze. He took another step back, eyeing his partner before staring back at his father.   
  


All he was a solemn look in Merenkahre's eyes.  
  


"I...I..." No words could not explain the bubbling rage mixed with anguish.  
  


Rowen began to reach for his arm. "Ahk-"  
  


He felt her fingers gently touch his skin, sending a prickling sense up his arm. Hand jerking away from her, Ahkmenrah gave them one last look; he flicked his head and dashed out of the exhibit and into the unknown corridors of the British Museum.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**Larry XXIX  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

When his eyes crossed the younger mummy, Larry could feel his stomach churning in discomfort. He didn't want to leave them for some reason. Maybe he was being nosy, wanting to know the reasons as to why Ahkmenrah was known as the real guardian of the golden tablet.  
  


Or maybe it was the fact that he wanted to know more for his part. The visions he's having with the girl in the garden, the same one that would grow into a beautiful woman. Maybe the pharaoh and Ahkmenrah would know her.  
  


However, Larry knew there was something they needed to do first.  
  


He said out loud to them, "Okay, let's get this Tablet sorted."  
  


The Exhibits followed him, Rebecca and Nick, out to the front entrance of the museum. The others were rather quiet, probably after what happened in the Egyptian Exhibit just a few minutes before. Both Teddy and Sacagawea were trying to fill the silence with several ideas on where they were going to explore first. Rowen did allow them to have the whole museum for themselves for the next few days, only prohibiting them from the private areas of the building.  


As long as there wasn't any broken artefacts or displays, they were perfectly fine.  
  


Maybe Larry shouldn't have thought of that.  
  


Once they arrived, Larry and Nick opened one of the large doors enough for the rest to exit through. They found themselves standing under a tall cover, held up by several large pillars that could outmatch the sizes the American Museum of Natural History had. There was a large open courtyard, with black gates lining the edge. Several cabs and buses and the odd cyclist drove past as they took the steps.  
  


Larry then glanced up and was surprised to see a clear night sky.  
  


' _Guess this was our lucky night_.' He thought in disbelief. He had thought that this whole trip would be more eventful. Larry was expecting some villain or damage once the museum would come to life.  
  


It would seem tonight was in their luck.  
  


The moon shone bright, sending an odd warmth feeling in Larry as he held the Tablet out in his hands. He could sense the sickness still, making him want to drop the artefact down.  
  


However, there was a sudden surge of heat in his hands. As the exhibits surrounded him and waited, the Tablet began to glow.  
  


He couldn't describe it. But it felt like there was a wave of relief and energy passing through him. The green corrosion disappeared, leaving it into its original colour. Somehow it felt like it was comforting him.  
  


Everyone made a noise of relief, thanking Ahkmenrah's parents for saving them. Jedediah and Octavius were more excited to explore the British Museum instead, demanding them to go back inside and look through. The Roman obviously wanted to go to the Roman section, whilst Jedediah (who knew his history wasn't known in this part of the world) just wanted to have an adventure.  
  


So with Nick and Attila in tow - having to get permission from Larry himself - the miniatures were carried inside. He trusted his son to bring the Tablet back to either Rowen, Ahkmenrah or Ahkmenrah's parents once they go inside, knowing how his son didn't burn under the golden material it was made from.  
  


Teddy and Sacagawea, on the other hand, let him and Rebecca know that they would have their own stroll around the old museum. Larry was fine with the two, and perhaps the best time to have their own moment of peace before returning to New York. The past four years, the times they've spent together have dwindled into a schedule. Most of the time, Teddy would be working with him with the Night Programme whilst Sacagawea would work with Rebecca and sometimes Kai with tours.  
  


Therefore, he could only be happy to see some peace between the two of them. The former president and the Native American woman gave their farewells and followed the other four, with Dexter on Sacagawea's shoulders.  
  


Larry felt a hand hold him, and he looked to his side with a smile. Their finger intertwined as they took the steps up to the doors.   
  


' _One thing's for sure, this museum is a whole different level_ ,' He thought.   
  


The central hall was modern, with white walls and ornate glass ceiling above them. There was a gift shop in the middle, with two large staircases curving around. There was the reception desk, and several gates leading down to different parts of the museum. He would get lost in these corridors if they didn't have Rowen to guide them.  
  


As they walked slowly around, admiring the exhibits now wandering the halls, Rebecca was the first one to speak.  
  


"Wow, I guess it makes sense." She started. "Life at night, the moon...obviously it'll be that."  
  


He grinned and asked back, "You didn't know?"  
  


Rebecca replied, rolling her eyes. "I didn't learn about mythology. Only a minor in Ancient civilisations." Her tone changed to concern. "Larry?"  
  


He realised then that he had stopped walking. The moment they were talking about the Tablet again, he was back to remembering the dreams he'd been having.   
  


"Yeah no, god I'm just remembering what's just happened in there." He shook his head, rubbing his hand in the back of his neck. "Ahk and his father."  
  


They continued their path around, letting him ponder further on the topic. Yes, he could agree that Ahkmenrah had some right to be upset at his father (almost verging to anger). No one should be told the truth after such a long time. And it didn't help the fact that they hadn't seen each other for over half a century.  
  


Larry was impressed Ahkmenrah held his anger well enough. He would never be able to forgive someone who would lie to him about his own past at that time.  
  


Rebecca exhaled and replied, "I know, it's..." She stopped and added, "Not what I kind of expected."  
  


"It doesn't seem like they had a good relationship." He pointed out.  
  


Rebecca exhaled, folding her arms over her chest. She leaned into Larry's embrace as they walked through the large central hall. "Well, when you're part of the royal family. Duty comes before anything else." She began. "Even if their history was wiped out from our textbooks, Merenkahre seems like he ruled quite well for an Egyptian. It would be different in modern standards but he was doing what was right for his country."  
  


"Merenkahre was the second child, you know?" Rebecca commented. "His brother died years before Merenkahre's father died. So he took the role as king."  
  


His eyes broadened slightly, stunned. "Wow...that must have been a shock."  
  


"You would be surprised. Even then. He had more time to learn to be king." She explained, allowing her to go on a story. "But with what we've learnt about Ahk, it seems he wasn't prepared. His brother died. No heir meant Ahk had to take it. He probably was prepared on how to rule in case of war or sickness. But... I can't see him as a king."  
  


"Really?" He said in surprise. Larry then asked, "Why do you think that?"  
  


"Kings then are different from kings now. I mean look at the British Monarchs. They're mostly a figurehead rather than someone who would go on a conquest." Rebecca discussed, "Ahk's been brought up to experience the littlest things. Every detail, he knows what hardship is. The simplicity of living."  
  


He joked, "So commoners."  
  


"If you put it like that: yes." She chuckled, but then asked in curiosity. "Why do you think he seemed like a king?"  
  


"At first, he might have been." Larry paused and then continued. "But it didn't take long to realise just how much he didn't seem like he could push people around."  
  


Rebecca thinned her lips. "People aren't one dimensional, Larry." She spoke. He knew that she was trying to tread carefully on her words. "The Ahk we know has lived for thousands of years. Who knows how much he's changed. He might have been a ruthless ruler. Or a benevolent king."   
  


He didn't want to argue back, but his mind seemed to be off his tangent. "No." Larry answered, "But it's their choice on how many dimensions they'll show right?"  
  


A frown rested on her lips, and she tightly responded. "Sometimes traumatic experiences change people. I don't think you need to know more that he spent most of his life in his tomb. People in that situation could either go both ways. Either go insane or have some enlightenment." She then trailed off, then eyed him. "...You're not afraid of Ahk now, are you?"  
  


He shook his head. "No! God no." Larry added, "But I'm afraid for Rowen."  
  


"She's two hundred and thirty-eight years old." She raised a brow. "Out of the two of you, I think she'll be more afraid for you."  
  


It was his turn to be confused. "Why?" He asked.  
  


"Because you're her best friend's grandson." Her eyes softened, a small smile on her lips. "You're practically her family. Even then, I can see you treat her like a sister."  
  


Larry made a breathless noise, his lips twitching to a smile. Rebecca wasn't wrong. The petite woman he met at Central Park eight years ago had slipped into his life and brought into a new light. He could still say how grateful he was for her.  
  


But even all these things happening, whether she helped or not, Larry had grown to love her in a way that siblings would have. He was an only child, so growing up he would spend the holidays with his cousins most of the time. It was not the same as the bond he had with Rowen Bates. She was always there, no matter how little or large the problem was.  
  


They sat down on a bench facing into the inner circle, letting their eyes wander at the jumping ceramic frog passing by. There were also several Samurai warriors marching, along with a pair of dancers twirling over the marble floor.   
  


Rebecca was pressed right next to him, allowing to wrap an arm over her shoulders and keeping her head under his chin. It was natural now, to sit in the most uncomfortable places and watch the world go by. Spending their nights in a museum did have perks.  
  


"You're her family too." He smoothened her hair down and kept twirling a strand of hers in his hand.   
  


He could sense Rebecca grow tense, whilst she sighed. "I know." She glanced at him and asked quietly. "Does Nick think that?"  
  


"What?" Larry furrowed his eyebrows and then noticed the nervous expression coming from Rebecca. He reassured her, "Of course! He loves you as much as any kid would with a mother."  
  


A surprised look morphed on her face. "Really? I...I never realised." However, there was still an apprehensive glazed over her.  
  


Did he say it wrong?  
  


Larry began, "Becca-"  
  


Before he could continue, Rebecca cut him off: "When I marry you, it means I become his step-mom." She paused, her hands now fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "It's just...daunting, you know? I never really thought about it. I-well. I did think about it, but it just hit me now that I would become his step-mom."  
  


Larry pursed his lips and stayed quiet.  
  


She darted her head away, looking up to the glass ceiling above them. "I'm not sure if I'm ready," Rebecca whispered.  
  


He understood well enough the same feeling Rebecca had. No matter what age they could be, having a kid in your life was one of the hardest decisions you would have to choose. For Larry, he wanted to give Rebecca a choice. It was why it took longer than he expected to finally ask the woman he loved to marry him.  
  


Larry would never tie her into a bond that she didn't want to be in. Even if it would hurt them both to leave each other.  
  


"Sweetheart, Nicky cares about you a lot. It's why I asked him first when I was thinking of proposing for you." He answered. "If you want, we can hold the engagement a little longer?"  
  


Shaking her head, she assured him that it was not what she intended to have done. Rebecca already knew he had talked to Nick before proposing to her, knowing what their marriage would also add on. "I know you did." She paused. "But just...I always wanted..."  
  


She trailed off, biting her lip.  
  


"Wanted what?" He questioned.  
  


Rebecca huffed, rubbing her hands over her arms before gazing her eyes to him. "...A kid of my own, you know."  
  


"Oh..."  
  


Maybe his mind had a computer error or the fact that Larry had fazed the moment those words echoed into his ears. Another kid. His own blood as well.  
  


Another Daley child.  
  


He thanked Rebecca for snapping him back to reality when she slowly spoke, "You...you don't want-"  
  


His eyes widened and leaned back, taking his hand off her shoulders. "No!" He stammered, "No...I do."  
  


She raised an eyebrow.  
  


"I want...huh...sorry just give me a minute." He took another breath and wryly smile. "Becca. That's great..."  
  


Rebecca said, "There's a but there."  
  


"I do...I want to have a kid with you." He stuttered. "But maybe after our wedding, I mean-"  
  


He was then interrupted by her lips.  
  


Rebecca kissed him lightly, tilting her head up so he could carefully hold her chin. Another flutter in stomach, he leaned back and felt a little more relaxed.  
  


"Of course. We'll take out time." She murmured up to him. "I mean we're both on the older side of the spectrum. I guess the possibilities have kind of been reduced."  
  


Larry then saw the sorrow which grew on his lover's face. He didn't want to lie to her and be optimistic. They weren't exactly young anymore; in a few years he would reach the age he dreaded and Rebecca wouldn't be that far behind.  
  


What a pair they were.   
  


He suggested carefully, "Doesn't mean we can't adopt."  
  


"It doesn't feel the same though," Rebecca whispered.  
  


Wishing to divert her worries, he pressed his lips on her forehead and answered. "We'll think about it, Becca. But right now, let's just..."  
  


She spoke, "Breathe?"  
  


Larry nodded and tightly pulled her into another embrace. "Exactly...breathe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Questo è tutto. Sono qui amore mio." - "That's it. I am here my love." [Italian]  
> "Grazie amore mio. Per avermi riportato indietro." - "Thank you, my love. For bringing me back." [Italian]
> 
> I used a mixture of mythology and the actual history of the Old Kingdom to make my 'story' background. I loved the idea of Gods and Mortals joining together to defeat an evil figurehead. I kind of went to the basic idea of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter etc where there's this one saviour which comes back to defeat the evil. Here it's going to be the Guardians.
> 
> At first, I wanted Ahkmenrah to be linked with Osiris (which fits the idea of death). This would have the poetic context of being linked to Rowen - considering that Osiris and Isis are married. In the end, I thought of sticking to the Movie context of the Tablet being linked to Khonsu.


	45. You Are Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ahkmenrah left Rowena, Merenhakre and Shepseheret abruptly - Rowena searches for him to understand more of the young prince who now seems so lost and broken.
> 
> As for the morning after, a familiar character heads to the museum to conduct the mission he's been given after many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. This chapter still leads on from the previous one (which is going to happen more often in parts 3 and 4). Just wanted to say thank you once more and hope you enjoy it!.:)

** Rowena XXXIII  
  
**

_**2014 - London  
  
** _

The moment Ahkmenrah ran out of the room, the tension had risen.   
  


She was compelled to chase after him, worried that he would stumble upon something unsettling or damaging to his present mindset. And in an environment that was new to him, Rowena could imagine all various outcomes if a panicked and distressed pharaoh roamed the British Museum.  
  


However, there was some hesitation in pursuing him; mostly the fact that Shepseheret had looked upset at what Ahkmenrah had done. Rowena wanted to embrace the mother, to ease her tears slipping down her face. She asked if the queen was alright, and the elder woman assured her that she was alright.  
  


When Rowena glanced to Merenkahre, there was a wave of aggravation in her chest. The pharaoh could have easily explained the truth with a little less bluntness. Either way: they all knew the outcome would not sway to understanding. The truth couldn't be taken by a soft blow; Ahkmenrah had to know it sooner or later.  
  


However, it was rather too late than they anticipated.  
  


Instead of staying, Rowena silently gave them a nod to which they agreed - and she dove off into the rest of the museum in search of the young pharaoh.  
  


Down the corridor of Greek and Roman statues was where Rowena found the others wandering about, excluding Larry and Rebecca. She did not worry too much about the other two but wondered if they completed their task in reviving the Tablet.  
  


The young Daley was the first to spot her, eyeing her as her steps made a snap against the cold marble floor. Everyone else’s eyes followed suit, looking at her with questions on their faces.  
  


Nick was the first to ask, "Rowen? Where's Ahk?"  
  


She didn't want to worry them and composed her emotions. "He ran out before I could ask. Did any of you see him?" Rowena questioned.  
  


For a moment, there was a wave of concern throughout the group and they shook their heads. It seemed everyone wanted to speak with their mind, though nobody opened their mouth to say something.  
  


Until Nick answered back with creased eyebrows. "No. We'd just come inside after we restored the Tablet. Well, we explored a bit and then came back to give you this." He took out the golden artefact and held it out to her.  
  


Even though her mind was still onto Ahkmenrah, she was relieved that at least one thing turned out correctly during their trip. The Tablet was revived into its former appearance (and feeling) with a golden glow surrounding it. When she grasped it in her hands, there was a tingle of warmth up her arms once more - the Wadjet key cool on her collarbone. She thanked the young Daley for returning it and told the rest that she would give it back to Ahkmenrah.  
  


If she could find him that is.  
  


Her Native American friend stepped forward, frowning. "Did something happen?"  
  


Rowena glanced around for a second, sensing that neither his parents nor anyone else was in earshot, she indicated Sacagawea that she was correct.  
  


Teddy was the next to speak, concerned rather than worried. "He was rather upset when we left, Rowena."  
  


"I..." She snapped her mouth shut before she could answer. Rowena was still struck in shock even after she heard the facts. "It would seem his parents hid something from him ever since he was born." She replied, treading with her words.  
  


With eyebrows raised to the roof, Teddy breathed. "Good gracious. What about?" He asked.  
  


"Him being the guardian of the Tablet…and not his brother."  
  


Then they all widened their eyes in shock and surprise and a roar of disbelief erupted around her. Rowena kept unruffled. There was no other way to explain other than to bluntly say it. Internally, she sighed in tiredness, yet felt a nostalgic feeling in seeing her friend act as they usually would.   
  


She then continued, "Yes, we all believed it at first. But in fact, the Tablet was supposed to go down to him. His brother, on the other hand, was proposed to stay as the temporary guardian. However, it never came."  
  


It was then everyone quietened once more when Sacagawea questioned, "Why is that?"  
  


Her eyes darted to her and she answered, "Khufu." Rowena explained: "He was the advisor of the royal family. He got rid of their family before the god: Khonsu could reveal that Ahkmenrah was the guardian."  
  


She remembered who Khufu was. Not one singular Egyptologist would forget the king that had built the Great Pyramids of Giza - one of the most famous wonders of the Ancient World. Alongside his sons and descendants, they had the most successful reign in the 4th Dynasty until Merenkahre, Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah came to be.  
  


Everything that she'd researched, and she had discovered once more: was all a lie.  
  


Ahkmenrah had said it before, but never would she admit how much Khufu would influence. Killing the family, erasing their life and changing it all. All for power.  
  


All for the Tablet.  
  


Now a group wanted her and the Tablet. It would be a coincidence that it was for the same purpose to what Khufu wanted the Tablet as well.  
  


She then remembered the one woman that has kept her up on her toes every minute. The same one that carried the similar Wadjet Key around her neck.  
  


"...Rowen? Are you alright?"  
  


Rowena blinked several times before saying _her_ name. "Salma Atkins."  
  


Teddy's eyes flashed and he narrowed them. "And what of her?"  
  


The exhibits knew of that name, having been told by Ahkmenrah since she warned him before she left four years ago. It was for precaution, that if the Tablet were at risk - they would be able to know at least one suspect.  
  


"She's the other guardian," Rowena spoke. "And with what she said about Kahmunrah and Ahkmenrah, I assume that she is not on our side."  
  


Sacagawea spoke, "You said she was to be kept an eye on her, though?"  
  


' _Not entirely,_ ' She wanted to say, but that would be a lie. In fact, she had someone else keeping an eye on her in Egypt.  
  


"I have. She's been behaving well according to my confiders. And now it seems like everything is starting to reveal itself.” She sniffed and fiddled with her necklace. “Somehow at some point from then and now, she found the key and got corrupted. Or...maybe Khufu's descendant found her and gave it to her."  
  


"You believe this man is connected to her?" Teddy questioned.  
  


Rowena replied, "I won't admit firmly as of now. But with the evidence that we have that Khufu wanted the Tablet and Salma wanted the Tablet as well, they both have the same goals."  
  


Jedediah scrunched his face and asked, "What is that darn key for anyways?"  
  


"I don't know." She admitted, and the ever-growing frustration in her did not ease her anticipation to find him. "Even _they_ don't know because only the Guardians were supposed to know."  
  


Rowena had been referring to Ahkmenrah's parents, knowing by their looks towards her that there was nothing to be said of the golden token on her neck. She was expecting nothing from them, in fairness even if it did deflate any of her chances to know more about what the Wadjet key entailed. All they knew now that it was a special artefact that was similar to the Tablet and was being hunted down. Not anything new for her.  
  


However, the dread that there was a possibility that the Tablet in her hands was corrupted on purpose had increased. These unknown group (or groups) of people were after her and Ahkmenrah's heads. Even then, they probably couldn't kill them at all with their condition.  
  


She shuddered to think of the consequences of being captured. That was not her list. Not again after what happened at the Smithsonian. If they couldn't kill them, who knows what sort of plans they were scheming for them.  
  


What was worse. If they took her friends and family, she would never be able to forgive herself for their demise or death. Rowena had already been in that position, and Harry never gave her the choice to save him from having a painful end. Neither did their daughter, who simply accepted death either way.  
  


She couldn't let them go down that path.  
  


Teddy heaved and sincerely said. "I know it's difficult for you as well, my dear." He looked down to her.  
  


She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she found Sacagawea softly ask her. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  


About what: that she had finally realised that all this time - they were people after her for something she didn't know. That this group of cultists wish to seek to use the Tablet and the Wadjet for something dangerous. And perhaps it was the very same one which Cecil Fredricks told her.  
  


' _Beware of the Scarab...who was the Scarab though?_ ' Rowena wondered many times, and even now couldn't understand who would hold that title. She shouldn't be thinking of them again. Not now when she could feel her breath shortening.  
  


Then Rowena could remember the argument she and he once had. The moment when she told him that he was forced to move to New York. It was then a nerve was struck, and she felt her hand twitch.   
  


Her head - no matter what - stayed facing up.  
  


"I'm afraid for him." She said realising how her voice trembled. "I feel like I did this to him."  
  


It had been guilt that filled her whole body then. The sense of her fingers shaking underneath the grasp of the Tablet as she thought of the many things she had done in her life. Too many mistakes that had caused her to have the past bite her back in the arse.   
  


All because she was a naive little girl all those years ago.   
  


If she hadn't sent him to New York. If she never followed those visions in uncovering his tomb.  
  


Sacagawea faced her, a stern and yet calm demeanour that kept Rowena trained at her voice. "Do not blame yourself for something that had come to pass. You had no choice in that matter." She continued. "You were not the person those fifty years ago. Now: you are Rowen Bates, one of the strongest people I ever been graced to call as a friend. We make our mistakes, and we build from it."   
  


Rowena spotted the former president stand by his lover's side and he agreed with a nod.  
  


Teddy smiled. "Sacagawea is right, my dear. There will always be moments where you will reflect your actions. But you shouldn't let it swallow you whole." He took a deep breath. "The best course is to move forward with a hand to help. And as I say, everyone here is with you and Ahkmenrah. You shall never walk this road alone."  
  


Her chest warmed with fondness hearing those words. She didn't want for them to have to risk their journey here, but she hadn't realised there was need of some comfort either way. Six months alone without them felt so long ago. And hearing Theodore Roosevelt and Sacagawea's strong and yet moving words had kept her back from the dark.  
  


Even the others. Who all nodded their heads as Dexter cooed at her - crawling up to her shoulder to hug her. She leaned her head in and thanked her friend.  
  


Jedediah agreed and said. "Yeah, Gigantress. After all this Tablet problem solved, he'll get better."  
  


Nodding beside him, Octavius added. "We were deciding if it's best for him to stay here, with his parents for a while." He continued. "Perhaps it would aid him to reconcile his relationship with his parents."  
  


Looking up to the Roman, she peered her eyes at him before glancing at each of them. They looked as if they already discussed this certain topic before she arrived her. "Should you not ask him?" She asked them.  
  


Teddy was the one who answered: "We thought it would best for you to confront him first." He explained. "If all of us did, he would choose the latter, but we can't let him decide over his heart when his mind is not set yet."  
  


She was unsure as to why they had thought of the notion in the first place until she softened her eyes at them. The exhibits wanted to do what was best for their friend. They didn't want to hurt him even further by taking him away from his family just as he was reunited with them for the first time in half a century.  
  


They would choose to not come back to life to give Ahkmenrah time with his family.  
  


However, Rowena doubted what Ahkmenrah believed. After being with your parents for years, she knew his relationship with Merenkahre wouldn't heal as easily as they assumed.  
  


She adjusted her hold with the Tablet and sighed. "I understand. How are you all though? I know how much the corrosion probably affected you." Rowena asked attentively.  
  


There was a mixture of responses from them. Dexter had stayed silent on her shoulder, whilst Sacagawea glanced over to Teddy, who wore a tight hidden expression. Nick was curiously watching the exhibits beside Attila whilst Octavius and Jedediah, on the other hand, look conflicted.  
  


The two miniatures were the ones she was worried about. She wished they could speak more freely about their emotions.  
  


Octavius tightly answered, "We're fine, Rowen." He then realised how snappy he spoke and relaxed his tone. "Truly."  
  


She still was not convinced by the choice of his words. So to ease their minds, Rowena decided to admit something she had not said in years. "I have died more than once, you know." A lot of them looked at her in disbelief.   
  


Rowena had never spoken often of her immortality. Whenever it did come up, she never explained that part of her life unless it was someone that needed to know it. Maybe it was to lessen the sad looks people gave her after they knew about her. Though mostly it was to forget it herself.  
  


"And...and it'll be there." She continued but and then added. "But never let it rule your head."  
  


"You are right. We must continue to move forward." Teddy curtly nodded to her and she responded with the same gesture.  
  


Rowena let out another exhale and grinned. "Okay, enough of these sombre attitudes." She gestured her arm out and said. "I did say you can wander about the museum, the best way to start is the central hall which is just ahead. I'm sure you'll be fine on your own."  
  


There wasn't anything else to say after Teddy and Sacagawea knew what she wanted. The two nodded at her and gave her encouraging smiles, allowing her to place Dexter on Sacagawea's shoulders and went off into the hallways.  
  


She heard Jedediah ask when she turned away. "Where are you going?"  
  


Teddy stopped the cowboy and solemnly replied, "Let her, Jedediah. I think they will need their time alone this time."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

She was on the verge panicking, having it taken her twenty minutes to search for him until she found him sitting on one of the benches. The African masks draped in front of the white wall surrounded by a soft yellow glow of the light.  
  


There was a soft whimper before a sequence of sniffs before she could approach him. Rowena gulped and halted. The pain in her chest didn't help her either, spotting him curled up on the wooden furniture, his robes scrunched by his legs and arms.   
  


His crown was placed carelessly by his side.  
  


So many people have hurt him, both indirectly and directly throughout his life. It was only getting worse for her when partially it had been her fault. Something inside of kept eating her urges to confront him, blaming only but herself for doing everything that was nothing.  
  


She did not deserve him.  
  


Though she equally knew that he needed someone - even if it was her.  
  


Rowena's quiet steps didn't affect him as she now stood just a few feet away from him. She then softly said, "Ahk?"  
  


His head did not rotate, only grumbling back. "Go away."   
  


She exhaled and answered, "You and I both know I won't do that."  
  


Approaching the pharaoh, she moved the crown and put the Tablet down next to it. Sitting slowly beside him, she reached a hand to his shoulder with hesitation. She was afraid that he would retract back, wanting nothing from her.  
  


However, the opposite occurred. As her skin touched his shoulder, he leaned into her and his head nestled on her shoulder. His weeping echoed around them, raking the pain in heart even more. Rowena wished she could do more, but she knew even holding him in her arms was the only way to comfort him.  
  


_"Amicus meus_ , I'm here." She murmured. "That's it."  
  


She wasn't sure how long they sat there in the same position, rubbing his back in circular motions. The beads of his clothes were digging into her skin, but she ignored it. Rowena could feel his heart beating fast, his chest heaving quickly.   
  


There and finally, the pharaoh of Egypt had broken down after four-thousand years.  
  


Four-thousand years of awaited pain and anger which had bubbled during that time. She wished she could understand him more than she did now. But their lives were so different, and yet so similar in a way that an ordinary modern person would not dare to imagine.  
  


"Why." He spoke with a trembling voice. "Why does it happen to me?"  
  


Rowena didn't respond, continuing to hold him in her embrace. As his breath began to settle to a peaceful pace, he leaned back. His face was still ridden with fresh tears. Eyes red-rimmed and swollen as he sniffed his nose. But during that time, he always kept looking down, looking down at the Wadjet key on her chest.  
  


He whispered, "Why me?" He questioned, not knowing it was to her or himself. "I am nothing special. I am nobody. Not without these clothes or this crown or my title."  
  


She stared up to him, one hand on his shoulder whilst the other went to cup his cheek. Rowena wiped the tears away on his cheeks. "You are Ahkmenrah. One of my best friends and my dearest love." She answered tenderly. "You are one of the smartest people I have met. You are loved, both here and those after death."  
  


Ahkmenrah closed his eyes, another tear trailing down before he then wiped his nose. "It was my fault. If I hadn't...If I hadn't been born-"  
  


"No, Ahk. Do not say those things." She quickly said but kept her voice calm. "Your existence matters."   
  


His bit his lip, as if he were trying not to cry once more.  
  


Rowena could feel herself almost lose against the emotions that filled her. Her eyes stung, but she refrained to bid under her own tears.   
  


Instead, she lifted herself and touched his lips with hers - softly and lightly to just bring him back to reality. Afterwards, she then went back before holding his hands with hers.  
  


The pharaoh looked at her, slightly more relaxed than before.  
  


"You matter, Ahk." She spoke, a little. " _So_ much that sometimes I wonder if the world just revolves around you."  
  


"Well apparently, it does," Ahkmenrah muttered sorely.  
  


Her eyes softened and she replied. "You know what I mean, _amicus meus_." She continued, "You matter so much to me. You matter to everyone who has come by your side."  
  


"You don't understand. All my life, my life has been driven by lies. Sometimes I'm not sure what is the truth and what is a lie anymore." He bit his lip to stop his tears, rushing to wipe them away.  
  


Rowena's heart skipped another beat before commenting. "I don't believe anyone knows, _amicus meus_."  
  


Ahkmenrah asked, "Then how do I live with it?"  
  


"You live with it with acceptance. People will lie, and they will lie with a reason. You'll try to understand it, but that's where you choose how long it takes for you to do so." Rowena took a deep breath and added, "No one is forcing you to accept or to understand it."  
  


"What about her?" He asked.   
  


She titled her head. "Who?"  
  


"Rowena Clarke." The name still felt so foreign to hear from his voice. He explained, "Because that's what Rowen Bates would say."  
  


"Oh."  
  


He asked, "If you were still her, what would she say?"  
  


The unexpected question caught her off guard. Not once in her life had she'd been asked directly something like this. Everyone (even the ones that knew who she truly was) never offered to know what her opinion be if she still bore her first name. It had always been her in the present, whether it was Rowen, Joanna, Emilia or even Elizabeth in some cases. Never Rowena.  
  


Sometimes she thought of herself as the same person with numerous names. And sometimes she thought she was multiple people sharing the same body, the same soul yet different minds and hearts. So many years being called so and so that she had come to accept that she had to let go of her previous lives.   
  


Unlike her names, who she now decided to have passed on - nothing could stop her from coming back to thinking of Rowena Clarke.  
  


Rowena Clarke was her first and only name that would keep her here. To continue to believe in humanity. The one who had never lost the faith of mortality. She would never be able to accept her to be dead.  
  


She couldn't help but admit that she missed being called that name. But would Rowena Clarke be able to survive the modern world?  
  


"In her life... Everything in her life would be the truth. Because people were brutal. There was no screen to hide behind. Only your appearance and your class." Rowena said and shook her head. "No. She could easily tell the lies. But living a lie? I think it would hurt her more. Because she would never have to realise that her life around her was a facade. She would try to understand, but she will never accept it."  
  


Ahkmenrah's face was written in awe and curiosity. He then wondered, "Who am I then?"  
  


It was her turn to be stunned, and maybe she should have expected.  
  


They were two people out of time.  
  


While the world moved forward, Rowena Clarke and Ahkmenrah never changed. Even if she Rowen Bates now, she still felt out of synchronous with everything else.  
  


Honestly, she answered him as she brushed a strand of his hair out of his face. "You can be whoever you want to be."  
  


"And what about you?" He asked her, "Will you always be Rowen Bates?"  
  


' _Will I change again once my time has come?_ ' She wondered to herself. Did Rowen Bates love Ahkmenrah? Or did Rowena Clarke love him?  
  


She swallowed and admitted. "...I'm not sure as of yet, _amicus meus_."  
  


He hummed with a nod. His hands wrapped over her shoulders and carefully tucked her under his arms.  
  


"Can we just stay here?" Ahkmenrah asked her.  
  


She didn't need to look back up to him to assure him. "I will be by your side for as long as you want me too."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Garret I  
  
**

_**2014 - London  
  
** _

It was today.  
  


He adjusted his shirt, smoothing down the front. He could feel the thick lining of the vest inside, thick and sturdy under the thin fabric above it. The belt underneath was tight around him, sensing the objects in their holsters. Taking the guard, he wrapped them around his forearms and slid two more into its pockets.  
  


He then eyed the made bed in front of him, imagining the figure that had been there just a few hours ago. The mass of red hair that was sprawled over to the side of where he slept. With blue sparkling eyes looking up to him the moment she woke.  
  


Blue and innocent.  
  


He never told her why they truly went to London for the past week. He had suggested it to be an extra surprise of their honeymoon, after spending a week away abroad at the beach. They were supposed to be back in New York since Leslie was due back to work at the hospital after the prolonged beginning of their married life.  
  


But he could not back down this opportunity - not when they had tasked him with the largest missions since his initiation. He could only thank his friend, Kai Winterson, for all the work and praise he had told to the heads of their Order.  
  


He remembered the first time he found out about them. As roommates in New York University, they had become close friends that his knowledge of Kai had gotten too close for a call. He began seeing the suspicious activity Kai was doing. Sneaking off at night and returning to their dormitory in the morning. Pulling out of bar nights to see his dad. It only took a few months until he confronted the guy and finally got the information out of his mouth.  
  


Kai Winterson was part of this secret group that has grown for over four thousand years.   
  


After that, Kai's father who was currently a representative to New York proposed to him with a position to become a confidant to the _S.H.A_ after graduating. At first, he wasn't interested. Nothing made sense at all until the truth was revealed.  
  


Magical tablets, keys. Immortality. Power. Gods.  
  


They promised him success and money and power. And as the middle child of seven children, there was never a light shone onto him. To his family and everyone else: Garret was just a plain man with a useless degree.  
  


But with the Order of Snakes, he had a role. That was enough to pull him into the inner circle of secrets.   
  


It was after the initiation that everything was beginning to look brighter for him. He was rising the ranks faster than any of his age. Kai supported him, and Kai's father respected him. Not only that, but the _Scarab_ had also caught his eye.  
  


One of the three immortal heads of the Order. And would be considered as one of the more opened ones.  
  


She had tasked him this job. And this job alone. He knew the people that were guarding the Tablet enough to know where they are. He had to thank his wife for that.  
  


Leslie Carter. The great-granddaughter of the famous Howard Carter; the granddaughter of Edmund Carter - known to the Order as the Catalyst of the project.  


However, _she_ was not supposed to fall in love with him.  
  


But Garret was someone that thought too much of his importance. His work, his role... _his_ wife. His success in capturing Leslie Carter's heart was an achievement he was personally proud of as it told him and the rest of the world that he could gain everything.   
  


When they first met at a party, Garret saw the kindle of fire in her eyes. The same flame that matched the colour of her hair. Even before his initiation, he had already gotten close to her. Afterwards, he contemplated whether to cut her ties. But the Scarab had told him not.  
  


The Scarab insisted that each member should continue living in a normal matter. Too many anomalies could potentially expose them.  
  


And so, he agreed. He stayed with Leslie Carter who slowly - and naively – fell in love with him.  
  


He wasn't expecting himself to fall in love with her too.  
  


There was nothing wrong about her. In fact: she would have to be the most perfect and innocent people he had ever met. Her background was clean, both on paper and online. She had grown up as an only child with wealthy parents who loved their daughter very much. She wore modest clothes usually, sometimes wearing a dress from to time. She was intelligent and was the top of her class throughout her school life. Now, she was a doctor and surgeon and many people respected her. When it came to family dinners, everyone would never make a bad remark about her.  
  


However, underneath it all: Garret saw more of her. And it was the consequences of the perfection that Leslie Carter had built up for years. When it does, there will be a time she will break - and it will be a catastrophe.  
  


He could only hope it wasn't this case.  
  


Somewhere deep down him, or some ounce in his mind and heart - that there was a flicker of the love of Leslie. And not just the idea of Leslie.  
  


Garret shoved those thoughts away. He had no time to think of the only fault in him. Even when she was out (he persuaded her to give herself a day to herself and treat herself to shopping), he could not fault the possibility of stumbling into her during his mission.  
  


' _You have to forget her. Just this time.'_ He told himself, staring at the mirror. He placed the earpiece into its correct position, camouflage by its skin colour. Afterwards, his hand trailed down the back of his neck, feeling where the tattoo printed.  
  


He could still feel the thrum of pain. The symbol of the Order claimed on his skin. With one last breath, he put his jacket on and slung his rucksack on his shoulders.  
  


He took the tube, maintaining his composure and texting the rest of his team his position. Garret couldn't help but glance around him. They were in their own little world, stuck to think about their mundane lives with no clue what he was going to do.  
  


Once he was at the nearest stop, he walked the rest and turned on his earpiece. The first stage was up - which was getting into the museum undetected.   
  


And what better way to do it amongst the busiest times of the day.  
  


There was a group of university students to which he blended into. Security was the first problem to tackle. The British Museum was prone to having to most valuable artefacts in the world. Unlike the American Museum of Natural History which anyone could just enter, this place had many procedures.  
  


And the better was to do it was accepting the measures.  
  


He took the line of the left, placing his bag on the conveyor belt. There were at two security officers in each line: one to inspect the bags and one to check people through the metal detector.  
  


Garret's eyes then flickered over to the security guard at the one calling for him. He faced the man and eyed the metal detector. With a quick breath, he then walked through.  
  


No alarm went off the moment he passed, and Garret looked back at the security guard next to him. In the back of the guard's neck was the same tattoo he had, hidden subtly by the collar of his neck.  
  


They both nodded at each before Garret waited to grab his bag.  
  


The security guard inspecting the bag had a bored expression and clicked several buttons before the conveyor belt moved his bag out to his side. Garret saw a quick nod from him before he slipped the bag on once more.  
  


' _Step one is done_.' Garret smirked internally and headed up to the entrance of the actual museum.  
  


The British Museum could be classed at a high graded building even without the artefacts. Its grand stature dwarfed the museums in New York, with grand pillars and a large hall in the centre.  
  


He had to remind himself that he was in a mission, even how exciting it was for a historian like him to be here. Going up the steps, he approached the reception desk - finding a young woman bidding a family a good day. Her plain brown eyes saw him, and he smiled back.  
  


When he made it in front of her, he asked: "Excuse me, do you know where the Ancient Egypt section is?"  
  


He could tell she found him good-looking, by how her eyes wandered his face and body. It took her a few seconds to adjust in her position before nodding enthusiastically, "Just straight down there and take a right. Would you like a map, sir?"  
  


Garret nodded, and he picked up the pamphlet in front of him. "Thank you for your help." He peered down to try and looked back up to her. "Olivia."  
  


The younger woman blushed and glanced her eyes down into the desk. "Hope you have a nice day, sir."  
  


He flashed her another smile before saying his goodbye.  
  


Once he knew he was out of her eyesight, he took his time wandering the exhibits towards the direction of the Egyptian section. He knew it would be too suspicious to hurry there, so the best course of action was to make sure the timing was impeccable.   
  


Seeing the artefacts here reminded him of going to Egypt. He could remember the heat of the sun and the roughness of the sand. But here, you could not feel it in reality. Here, the artefacts of Egypt were worships and idolised. All these tourists and visitors and students around him: they didn't know the extent of the power around them.  
  


One of the more known collections was the one surrounded by a ring of people. _The Rosetta Stone_.   
  


Uncovered over two hundred years ago, the stone would become the revelation in the Ancient Egyptian language. He had studied this piece for hours on end, curious on how to decipher its meanings. It was just a little insulting that the context it wrote was not worthy of its power.  
  


The rest of the long hall had many visitors ogling the rest of the columns, sarcophagi and statues until he came to a crowd of students and families alike.  
  


In the centre of it all was someone he was expecting.  
  


Rowen Bates.   
  


The director of the British Museum, also known as the _Heka Guardian_ to the Order, was currently doing a talk. She was standing beside the sarcophagus, the Tablet resting on top as she discussed and answered questions to several students and visitors.  
  


For Garret, there was hidden hatred for Rowen Bates despite their friendly relationship around Leslie. The woman symbolized everything he envied and sought to bring down. If anyone were given the gift of immortality, it would be someone that would have saved so many. A hero.  
  


But her: she had done nothing of a sort.  
  


He had heard of her past. The Duchess of Cornwall who died pathetically by her own stupidity. There was no heroism or courage in that death.  
  


It was the many reasons he wanted to rid of her in the first place. To tell Leslie to kick her out of her home many times. But of course, his wife would never look away at a family friend. Not when they had grown to become friends.  
  


Rowen Bates's granddaughter was much the same, perhaps slightly better with her crass comments and interesting character that made him hate her less.  
  


Garret only hoped the younger Bates didn't intertwine her life with her grandmother's.  
  


Whilst he turned away and focused on studying a statue of a cat, he said, "Hello."  
  


"Security cameras are disabled for five minutes." The voice through his earpiece instructed. "Please make sure you are ready."  
  


"Copy." He was about to signal and indicate his team but then stopped.  
  


A familiar voice within his range spoke.  
  


"...Why are we back here again?" Nick Daley's voice echoed out in the large hall.  
  


They were on the other side of the exhibit, spectating their friend as she continued to talk to her audience about Ahkmenrah's reign.  
  


"Well, since we're basically here for another few days, why can't we explore the place?" The older Daley asked.  
  


"But we could always do it at ni-" Nick then paused himself. "-I mean, with Rowen."  
  


Garret wanted to snort. The young Daley was not as subtle as the two adults. Rebecca Hutman suggested that they'll continue touring for another hour before they can explore the rest of London.  
  


His partner stated through his earpiece, "Diversion is ready."  
  


He then waded out of the hall and heard a sudden thud.  
  


"Oh my. Are you alright, sir?"  
  


From the corner of his eyes, he spotted one of their own, an elderly man in his seventies. He had fainted just outside the exhibit where Ahkmenrah and the Tablet was. Many people began to crowd around when they notice, but the most important one of them all was the one who rushed in.  
  


Whilst he slipped through the large crowd, he heard someone call out. "He's not breathing."  
  


Garret took another glance and spotted the Daleys and Rebecca Hutman also leaving the exhibition and rushing to help Rowen. The Security guards had caught his eye, nodding at him to secure his position.  
  


"Please give him room!" Rowen Bates shouted to the visitors.  
  


When he entered the exhibit of the pharaoh, he found himself alone, with no eyes or ears. His eyes panned the room, only to stare at the particular object perched on a display rack beside Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus.  
  


His eyes were filled with lust and desire. He had seen the Tablet many times, but now he would finally be able to hold it in his hands.  
  


"Now's your chance." His partner said in his ear. "Put the gloves on."  
  


In his pocket, he took out the small accessories and tugged them on. For anyone, they seemed quite ordinary. Black leather gloves with red patterns printed over them. However, they held a key purpose.  
  


His arms reached out, grabbing the sides of the Tablet. He could feel the heat already surging up his palms and into his arms. Garret let out a hiss and took a hand away from one side.  
  


"Trench?"  
  


"I'm fine." He murmured with gritted teeth and glared at the artefact. "Just really hot." That was an understatement.  
  


The Scarab told him the magical properties of the Tablet. How it could detect who wields it easily - almost sentient in some way. He then unzipped his bag, and carefully slipped it in. He then put on the rucksack and informed his team that he now held the Tablet.  
  


The next step was to try and leave.  
  


Suddenly, Garret was then met by a hard object.  
  


Not an object - but a person.  
  


His breath cut off the moment he realised who it was also.  
  


Larry Daley stumbled back, startled as he adjusted his clothes.  
  


Garret then exclaimed, "Argh! I'm so sorry."  
  


"No worries, man I-" Daley apologised and then furrowed his eyebrows. "Hey, do I know you?"  
  


Garret composed himself and replied with similar confusion, "I don't think so?" He then flashed a fake smile and replied, "Must have mistaken me for someone. Good day, sir."  
  


He tried his best to walk at a normal pace, continuing to wander and look at the exhibits before disappearing down the corridor towards the front entrance. Once he passed the reception desk, thanking the young woman with a flirtatious smile, he headed down the step and felt relieved.  
  


He had done it.  
  


The Tablet was theirs now.  
  


"Subject is with me now," Garret murmured under his breath as he walked forward.  
  


"Meet your courier at the Needle. They will be meeting you there."  
  


He asked suspiciously, "Isn't that dangerous?"  
  


"The Lion insists you are needed now."  
  


"Fine. Will do so now." He responded before turning down to the right as he exited the gates of the British Museum.  
  


What Garret didn't realise, was that there was a figure staring behind him. They had completely miscalculated one thing.  
  


And that was that Larry Daley was not a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these moments with Rowena and Ahkmenrah, especially with the secret meanings and the hidden future references I'm planning. I can't wait to be honest.
> 
> So I had some thoughts on how I wanted to write Garret's perspective and I came up with a blend of him preparing for his mission as well as his reflection on his life with Leslie. In the end, he's been obviously suspicious and a bit of a prat to Leslie. But of course, he is human. I almost took away the part about Leslie but I realised it would just seem he was heartless. 
> 
> At some point at the end of the story, I'll need to have some sort of section where I explain my thought process of everything.
> 
> To be continued.


	46. Downtown London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite Nightguard decides to pursue their thief whilst Rowena evaluates her trust.
> 
> Soon, things don't seem all too black and white.
> 
> Perhaps, even more, redder than needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter will contain explicit scenes of blood and violence and character death. You have been warned.
> 
> Welcome, and it's so lovely to say a Happy Christmas to you all. It's marking quite close to a full year of this story and I am very excited to put something up special to mark it up. Maybe a double update but that's quite unlikely with my productivity lately.
> 
> So this had to be the hardest to write, especially with the actions. I've tried my best to edit it and hopefully, it makes some sense. Thank you so much for the kudos, subs and hits. We've hit over 250k words which is bloody long! Thank you all again and enjoy. :)

** Rowena XXXIV  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

Maybe she was getting old. Or maybe she had not slept in three days. Or maybe she was seeing exactly as was expected.  
  


The Tablet was gone.  
  


Right under their noses. _Her_ nose more importantly.  
  


Perhaps she should go back to the first part of the day.  
  


' _What was it with people being so nosy?_ '  
  


Rowena clearly was not having a good day. A portion of security had called in sick, and she couldn't exactly have the night's stay for a day shift. Instead, Antonio had called in their backup for the next few days, who had asked the head of security to do so on their behalf. She also hadn't had time to sleep for the past two nights and she was tasked to do a talk on Ahkmenrah today.  
  


To top it off, an elderly person had fainted just outside in the large hall. She blamed her heroism and instinct to help anyone as she rushed to the man's side and tried to put him into the recovery position.  
  


Many people began noticing what occurred, crowding around her as they began asking if he was alright. Luckily (and surprisingly), a figure with dark brown locks and golden eyes was already there beside her, crouching down to her knees. Rebecca came to her aid, making sure there was space for her and the group of people. And when she heard Larry and Nick’s voices, she froze a second to realise who was with her.  
  


Rowena was not expecting any of the three to be at the museum today, not after last night.  
  


Whilst Rebecca contacted the paramedics, she ushered the crowd away. Security had little help in moving these visitors away, and she sighed in exasperation. Maybe Yara was right; taking the day off would have made things a lot less stressful. Even after what happened, surely any mentally stable person would admit a little break wouldn’t harm them.  
  


' _Ahk is going to have words with me for not sleeping again,_ ' She said to herself in mirth. She knew how concerned her love was when it came to her health.  
  


As she finally got the elderly man wrapped up with her cardigan and Rebecca's jacket, she heard someone cry out her name. Once she turned to the voice, her eyes narrowed in confusion when she saw him running and pushing through several people – with Nick trailing behind him as always.  
  


Rowena then stood up, narrowing her eyes in confusion at their panicked expressions. What had happened?  
  


"Rowen! I..."  
  


Larry Daley sucked in a gasp of air, stopping himself before he could trip himself with his feet. He took deep breaths to speak but the words came into stammering incoherence.  
  


Rebecca was already next to her, matching her confusion as well as easing Larry to calm down. But Rowena could tell easily that Larry was insistent.  
  


"What's wrong?" She pressed, urging him to get something out at least understandable.  
  


He was shaking. Hands clasping open and close whilst Nick was incredibly silent – gazing at the man with a shocked look.  
  


"The Tablet," Larry's voice hastily sped through.  
  


Her mind then averted to him, and Rowena's tone changed. "What about it?"  
  


Larry blurted, "It's missing."  
  


What.  
  


"What?"  
  


Both Rowena and Rebecca exclaimed at the same time. She eyed the taller woman before telling the two Daley men to wait with the elderly man as she sped back down into the exhibit. On the way, she spotted a security guard already rushing towards her with commotion on his face. How did he _not_ notice anyone suspicious taking the Tablet?  
  


She didn't dwell on it any further, only trusting the security guard to get Antonio or inform anyone nearby. Once he left, she took another quick breath before speed walking towards Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus.  
  


Once she arrived, she noticed the room to be empty, no security in sight. Her eyes glanced over to the cameras and took a mental note to check them afterwards. Rebecca had come hot on her heels, running up to her before Rowena could freeze in her tracks.  
  


The stand which temporarily held the Tablet was empty.  
  


It was gone.  
  


And here, we return to the entourage – where Rowena could feel her brain malfunctioning.  
  


Her hands had gone numb whilst she tried to blink several times. Surely, she was hallucinating; she was tired and could be seeing things.  
  


She said blandly, "Tell me I'm not seeing what you're seeing, Rebecca." Her eyes never left the empty stand.  
  


Her friend which she saw in the corner of her eye, looked incredibly pale – with widened eyes that could bulge out any second.  
  


"I might have to burst your bubble right there, Ro," Rebecca confirmed with a wavering voice.  
  


Rowena inhaled sharply and shut her eyes.  
  


' _This cannot be happening._ ' She thought. ' _I leave it safely with security for just ten minutes..._ '  
  


How could the Tablet be possibly stolen? Of course, she knew it would have been easier for anyone during the daytime, but there was security twenty-four-seven. And even then, people would have spotted anyone being suspicious.  
  


She scoured the sarcophagus and the room, inspecting each nook and cranny. Nothing seemed to be touched apart from the stand itself. The Tablet was large enough to be noticed – and with it practically being made from gold was obvious to be detected around London. No one simply carried 24-karat gold around these days in their hands. Not with that size.  
  


Rowena continued to think thoroughly as they exited the exhibit and returned to where Larry and Nick were. When they did, the paramedics had arrived, and she had to pull back the thoughts on the Tablet to discuss things with them. She could hope the man would be alright, despite her curiosity of him seeming to feel fine afterwards. The paramedics took him either way to check his vitals.  
  


Once they were out of the way, Rowena turned to the trio at hand. "Did any of you see anyone suspicious?" She pried, "Anyone with a rucksack of anything?"  
  


"Why a backpack?" Nick asked.  
  


"They needed something big enough to fit it in." Rowena pursed her lips.  
  


Rebecca frowned, "Why didn't they replace it? Would have been easier."  
  


The historian had a point. Though with a Tablet made from pure gold, Rowena wasn't sure how someone could build a replica out of the same material in this present era. She and Rebecca continued to contemplate on how someone could slip through.  
  


"Guys."  
  


The two stopped.  
  


Larry swallowed and spoke, "The Tablet." He said. "It's magic right?"  
  


"Yes..." Rowena slowly spoke.  
  


"Remember when Dexter stole it?" He asked, his eyes lighting up. "His hands got burnt the moment he took it."  
  


She let a breathless gasp. Her friend had a point. The Tablet had magical properties and several news ones which they've discovered for the past few years. One had been the fact that the Tablet knew the intent of the wielder of the artefact.  
  


Rowena muttered, "It burns anyone who tries to use it in an _evil_ way, per se." She looked at Larry and asked, "How is possible for someone to hold it then?"  
  


The night guard's face paled and he answered, "Someone like Cecil."  
  


Her mind then paused, halting her thoughts. She flashed her eyes at him and tightly asked, "You think he did it?"  
  


"No." He quickly said. "Look, I'm not saying he did it, but look. I met up with him."  
  


Her mind did a double-take. Rowena gaped back.  
  


“What!”  
  


Larry's face didn't look changed, almost snapping back, "You didn't tell us you went!”  
  


"I-,"  
  


Her lips thinned, and it took all will not to glower up to him. She remembered that Larry had wanted to talk to him about her yesterday and they never got around to speak of Cecil Fredricks.  
  


In fact, it has been four years since she's heard of that name. By the darting eyes and the awkward stance, he wore, Larry had something else to mention about him.  
  


"What happened to him?" She asked.  
  


Larry answered back, "He's dead."  
  


Her heart stopped.  
  


"What?" She whispered.  
  


And by Larry's heavy breathing, she could tell he would not be lying.  
  


Cecil Fredricks was dead? When did it happen? And what happened?  
  


A cold sense of dread slithered up her spine and into her chest.   
  


"I'm sorry, Rowen. I should have told you."  
  


"I... Don’t apologize," Rowena said, trying to maintain her voice to echo out. She cleared her throat. "We’ll discuss this another time. Let's just try and find more clues."  
  


She began walking but was halted by Larry tugging her sleeve. Turning to him, Larry frustratingly cried, "But that's it! Ro-"  
  


"Dr Bates!"  
  


Running up to her, she sighed to relief to find someone much more reliable and trustworthy. One of her new head of curators - Dr Holly Lyons - had been a fresh face to her team. The young (and remarkably tall) woman told her that Antonio is coming soon and wondered if she could be of help.  
  


That was when Rowena nodded and ordered: "We've got to close all perimeters."  
  


"Why? What's happened?" Dr Lyons questioned.  
  


She answered, "Someone's taken it."  
  


"What?"  
  


"The Tablet," Rowena spoke, not sure if it was to her or herself. "Someone's taken the artefact a moment ago."  
  


The young curator's eyes bulged, and her jaw slacked. She nodded silently, before rushing back out to begin the procedure. Whilst this worked, she only hoped Antonio had bumped into Dr Lyons and informed the situation.  
  


Once the paramedics were gone and all the visitors were beginning to have some worry, she reassured them that it was only procedure if any theft occurred in the museum. Which was not a lie. There were many times during her life which people have tried to steal certain artefacts to be sold at a high price. Some were the ones who discovered them.  
  


However, this time seemed different. Someone knew the Tablet was moved from New York.  
  


The only suspicion she concluded were the people with her now, Antonio, Richard, and Dr Campbell. Her stomach did a flip at the idea and she almost wanted to call back the paramedics. The people she trusted could have been conspiring behind her back.  
  


Rowena was dreading who to point her fingers to.  
  


Luckily, she thanked Larry for stopping herself from completely distrusting everyone around her. He could not have done it (not that she was slightly insulting his intelligence or moral code) and with what he just revealed.  
  


Cecil Fredricks was dead.  
  


She had just forgiven the man, and this was the repayment she got.  
  


' _It was in your hands._ ' Her mind called out to her and she shoved the thought away. ' _You should have taken him away to Britain._ '  
  


She thought of it once. Looking back to her time in Egypt, she disliked Samuel Fredrick's treatment of his son - no matter how much there was love between the two of them. If she could even call it love. C.J had become the only son she wished to have.  
  


Now, it was her fault that he was gone. Just like Peggy-  
  


' _Shut up!_ ' Rowena screamed in her head. She needed to pull herself together. However, nothing was helping her at all.  
  


All the visitors began panicking with the announcements piling through. Rebecca and Larry were either talking to each other or asking her (she wasn't sure who was talking to who now). Then there was her mind arguing with herself.  
  


She could feel her ears ringing, the light looking too bright for her sight as she flexed her fingers to sense some reality.  
  


_Tablet. Cecil. Tablet. Larry. Museum. Ahkmenrah. Prophecy.  
  
_

_Tablet. Museum. Prophecy. Ahkmenrah. Larry. Tablet.  
  
_

_Museum. Prophecy. Ahkmenrah. Tablet.  
  
_

_Tablet. Museum. Ahkmenrah.  
  
_

_Tablet. Ahkmenrah.  
  
_

Her fuse blew out.  
  


"Rowen?"  
  


"Shut up!" She shouted, earning several winces from them and some people around. "All of you, be quiet! I am trying to think!" Taking a ragged breath, she counted in her head before looking at them.  
  


Rebecca and Nick curled back and guiltily glanced down to the floor. On the other hand, Larry's face was firmly on her, a hardened gaze as he waited for her.  
  


"No, listen to me, Ro." He said to her. "I think I know who did it."  
  


She gave him a long look. "What did he look like?"  
  


Larry replied, gesturing with his hands. "He looked familiar. Tanned skin, black hair, he looked like he was in his late twenties. Dark jacket and a backpack-"  
  


"You're telling me this now?" Rowena asked with irritation.  
  


He exasperated, "How was I when everyone's interrupting me!"  
  


"Could have told us just _after_ you saw the guy!" She cried.  
  


Rebecca pulled gently Larry's arm and told the two: "Hey, hey. This isn't the right time to argue."  
  


Huffing, Rowena glared up to him. As much as they were as close to anyone would as a friend, she and Larry did clash when it came to the interest of the museum. Maybe it was a Daley trait. She and Robert were worse for wear, constantly at each other on the littlest things. With Robert, it was all fun and games until they would eventually blow the fuse. But with Larry, Rowena wanted to whack the young man's thick skull sometimes.  
  


Eventually, Larry and Rowena had calmed down slightly with Larry grumbling something about how he clearly had the right in the argument.  
  


On the other hand, Rowena pulled her phone out and said, "Fine, I'm going to call the police."  
  


"There's no time." Larry's hurried voice slowed her button pressing.  
  


She questioned him, "How are we going to-"  
  


"You felt it, right?" Larry pressed on.  
  


The certain look which Rowena learned to be his 'you know what I'm thinking of' expression made her mind click. The Tablet was somehow sentient to an extent, and they were able to sense where it was. But only at a short distance.  
  


So when she nodded, Larry raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and Rowena widened her eyes.  
  


' _He could sense the Tablet._ ' She realised. ' _And at this distance._ ' "Yes, but-" However, she was then abrupted when the man pressed a long kiss on Rebecca's lips and patted Nick's shoulder. "Larry, what are you-"  
  


A second later, he had sped off out of the museum.  
  


And towards the Tablet.  
  


"Larry!" Rebecca exclaimed, her face laced with worry and shock.  
  


At the same time, Rowena shouted at the figure, "Daley!" However, he was already out of ears. She swore, "For fuck's sake..."  
  


Rebecca and Nick looked startled as much as she was. When she could sense air entering her mouth, Rowena clamped her jaw shut and inhaled trying to maintain some ounce of composure. She panned her eyes around and suspiciously eyed several guards and cameras in her sight.  
  


"Let's go to my office." She offered and gestured for the two to follow them. Rowena could only trust no one would try to steal Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus at this time of the day. That block of stone weighed a ton, and it would hardly be able to get through easily with these many visitors around.  
  


After postponing her tours and answered several concerned public faces, she pulled a smile at each person and informed them that it was the only procedure. But in her mind, Rowena was beginning to feel the cracks. And with Larry gone...  
  


They arrived at her office, and she ushered them inside before locking the door with a sense of relief - for now. She then headed towards the windows and peered through, spotting the police cars beginning to arrive, and security stopping several of the incoming public entering the museum.  
  


' _At least some people are doing their job,_ ' She thought and headed back to her desk, opening her laptop, and beginning to file through her drawers for several things.  
  


It was then that Rebecca had stood on the other side of her desk, pleading expression on her face. "Where is he going?" She demanded. "Rowen, tell me. What did he mean?"  
  


What was she to say? That her fiancé had gone on a wild goose chase to catch their thief and return the Tablet with no means of weaponry? Rowena swore internally once more as the thought accumulated. The older Daley should have given her some chance to give him something to defend himself.  
  


Perhaps it was the Wadjet key thrumming over her chest, or it was indeed her heart as she pursed her lips and then answered her, "...Don't worry about him. We need to help him."  
  


She continued setting her station up and then heard someone speak.  
  


"I can."  
  


Glancing back, she found the youngest Daley shifting on his feet. Nick Daley was standing awkwardly on the side-lines. She was impressed that he had seemed calm enough to let alone offer his aid.  
  


"Nick?" Rebecca's eyebrows furrowed when she turned to him, unsure what Nick meant.  
  


As for Rowena, she already knew what the youngest Daley intended to provide. In fact, it only took several months to figure out what Nick Daley had done after that night in Washington. Several discussions with the Smithsonian Museum and curiosity killing the cat, she discovered something quite interesting about what he did in his spare time. And of course, how she and Larry were able to 'clean' up the mess they created after Khafre's demise.  
  


Rowena gave a look, not fazed at all by how she simply stated: "I know it was you hacking into the Smithsonian." She then held walked over to him and held a small silver object out. "This is a key; it hacks the majority of the cameras in this part of London."  
  


In her hand was a USB stick. Small, simple. And yet their only way to make sure Larry could be safe.  
  


Nick understood with his widened eyes. "How do you have this?" He asked. She was amused by his wonder and shock but was impressed by his hesitation as he carefully took the USB stick into his palm. He was smart, but he was sensible. He knew the consequences of using something rather questionable and gave his time to choose his options.  
  


Right now, they had no choice but to do this.  
  


"Fewer questions, more action," Rowena answered him and allowed him to sit down and begin the work on her laptop. For her, it would take half an hour to try and get into the security cameras around London. She would hope Nick would do it in less time.  
  


Rebecca on the other hand already got the pieces together and wandered her eyes away, trying to distract herself with the books and painting over the walls. Rowena couldn't blame her friend, she was standing here whilst Larry was in danger and Nick was trying to find him.  
  


To calm her nerves, Rowena reassured her that Larry would be fine and told her to sit down or pace around if that would ease her thoughts.  
  


Silence then fell between the three whilst the sound of vigorous typing, Rebecca pacing and Rowena's sharp and consistent voice carried the room.  
  


"Next thing we'll know, you've got a fucking army," Nick muttered under his breath after Rowena put down her phone and gave him a stern glare.  
  


Rebecca frowned and spoke, "Nicky, language."  
  


He murmured an apology before turning to Rowena. Nick asked, "Are you sure about this? I won't be...you know-"  
  


She raised an eyebrow before softened her eyes. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Rowena shook her head. She wouldn't let Nick take the blame for something that helped them. If they did discover her uses of her old position as once part of the War, she would take the blame either way.  
  


Once Nick seemed more relaxed and assured, he continued getting through.  
  


Letting out a sigh, she began to explain. "I couldn't tell you both on the way here because this whole place has eyes and ears." She gave a grim expression to them, folding her arms. "It would seem the temporary guards are not doing their job well."  
  


Rebecca slowly said, "So, you're saying..."  
  


"This wasn't a one-person job." She told them, "They have planned it well enough to know the security camera, procedures and times of the day."  
  


Rebecca's eyes glazed over to Nick's to which he silently returned before letting himself work on the screen again. As for Rowena, she was growing impatient. It had only been five minutes, hardly that long since Larry left. She should pester the young teenager, but she was on the edge.  
  


Suddenly, there was a knock.   
  


All their heads turned to the dark wooden door and she was the first to approach it cautiously. With one hand on the doorknob, she crept her hand to the object pocketed in her sleeve. She took a quick glance at Rebecca and Nick and motioned for them to stay silent.  
  


Carefully, she opened in her usual pace and found herself facing her friend.  
  


"Antonio." In one part, she was thankful it had been him and not someone else. However, that didn't halter her prudence.  
  


The Italian man curtly greeted her before she allowed him inside and shut the door.  
  


He stood in the middle of the room, with Rowena by the door and Rebecca and Nick at the other end. The curator gave the two only Americans in the room a look of confusion before turning to her. Antonio discussed, "Rowen. Dr Lyon's informed me. They're down in security to check the footage as we speak. More enforcements are arriving."  
  


Rowena wanted to speak any further, but she kept her cool and instructed him, "Tell the security to keep people calm. If they don't comply, make sure they don't leave."  
  


He questioned, "Why-"  
  


Antonio's eyes flashed in wariness as he heard a click.  
  


She kept her eyes trained on him; the handgun aimed at his chest.  
  


"Rowen!" She heard Rebecca gasp as Nick was probably too busy getting through to the cameras.  
  


Nick whispered, “Uh, what’s going on?”  
  


As for her, Rowena was not going to let her guard down. In one part of her mind, she would hope Antonio was truly her friend and had no idea what was going on. However, her rationality knew she could not take any riskier choices. He knew of Ahkmenrah and the Tablet's movement from New York. He was the other option that might have to know about the theft.  
  


She heard herself speak with a plain tone, "Give me one reason not to shoot you."  
  


He slowly lifted his arms up as she nudged the butt of the gun to him. Even if she had a weapon on his body, Antonio Paladino did not seem too terrified. It was as if he was prepared by her hostility.  
  


That even made him more suspicious and she waited for him to speak.  
  


"Believe me, _amica_." Antonio carefully spoke, his voice calm and collected. "I am not your enemy."   
  


She’s heard of that comment many times.  
  


"Prove it," Rowena ordered.  
  


Even trying to find any fault in his voice or any small changed in his expression, Rowen saw no hatred or facade in them. There was something else, which almost resided to guilt, but it wasn't betrayal. It frustrated her to all ends.  
  


He admitted, "I cannot prove it. But you knew me since university. I would never try to pull a stunt-"  
  


Antonio paused as he hiccupped, the gun pressed over his chest.  
  


Her mind was screaming to her. What was she doing? This was not what she intended. The fear flashing in his eyes and she hissed back, "One more chance."  
  


"I swear to you, Rowen Bates." Antonio gulped, the calm voice faltering. "I have kept you alive for longer than you would think."  
  


She stared at him, sensing his discomfort close to the gun. His cool breathing made her contemplate his answer. What did he mean that he had kept her alive? And for what? How Antonio even said her name felt foreign to her - as if he spoke the wrong thing.  
  


His eyes spoke nothing by the truth in his words, though there was something else. No hatred or desire in his eyes but pleading and forgiveness. She realised that he had not even tried to touch her, only allowing her to keep her gun on him. He hadn’t taken any other weapon or pursued to threaten her by risking Rebecca or Nick. Antonio had stayed completely still – hands still where she wanted them to be.  
  


Rowena finally stepped back and lowered her gun, sensing the relief in everyone around the room. Antonio placed his arms down and brushed the front of his suit.  
  


She said tightly, "You will interrogate each of them. And I mean all." Rowena then asked, head still watching her colleague. "Nick, are we connected?"  
  


The teenager replied, "Yep, we're in." He let out a gasp. "Wow, the encryption is amazing!"  
  


Rowena refrained to roll her eyes before setting herself to walk over to her desk where Nick was looking at multiple screens of various streets. Whilst she did so, Antonio waited where he stood whilst Rebecca lingered closer to Nick.  
  


The screen held multiple views of streets, all recording in live time. Rowen spoke quietly, "We're looking for the man your dad described."  
  


Nick nodded, and Rebecca joined them searching for any indication of a familiar face. They haven't seen Larry yet, so they continued looking through.  
  


"You won't uh...tell Dad, right?" Nick asked her, and Rowen raised an eyebrow. At this time, he would ask her of this? What was more surprising is that Nick hadn't told Larry of his talent in computing.  
  


That will be another conversation to hold for the two of them.  
  


She let the two do their work and she decided to hover back to her friend, slipping her jacket on and replacing her heels with some proper shoes that were perched under the desk.   
  


Rowena inhaled and clenched her jaw. "Antonio, I don't know what you're hiding." She narrowed her eyes as she spoke, "But lay a finger on them..."  
  


He looked at her with a pleading expression, trying his best to get through her barriers. However, she was long past in trusting people now. "I promise I won't, _amica_ ," Antonio swore, his hand over his heart.  
  


"Shaftesbury Avenue."   
  


Rowena turned to the teenager and nodded. "Thank you, Nicky. Call your Dad right now."  
  


She heard another cough, and she found Antonio firmly calling out. "Go, Rowen."  
  


Swiftly rushing up to her, Rebecca seemed so lost with all the mess that was occurring. Rowena squeezed her hand and silently gave her a look of apology. She could only hope she would be able to catch up to them not for her sake, but for Rebecca's.  
  


She saw the worry and fear rising in her friend's eyes. "Becca, if something happens. Call Yara." Rowena told her - no, ordered.  
  


It took a moment to process it, but Rebecca mechanically nodded, even more, terrified as her hand grasped the object. The dagger that had been in Rowen's possession for decades, she had now passed it to her.  
  


"Okay." She whispered, but her voice frantically changed as she cried. "Wait! Where are you going?"  
  


However, it was too late. Rowena rushed past Antonio and exited the office. It was time to catch up to Larry. And to keep her promise to her best friend to keep him safe.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Larry XXX  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

He was probably doing the stupidest thing he has ever done in his life.  
  


And that was the last thing on his mind.  
  


From pushing dozens of people out of the way and saying multiple apologies, he sped down the front entrance of the museum and ran out of the gates. He could hear the noises and screech of tires as he yanked himself off the road and back into the pavement. Larry apologised once more at the walker passing by, waving his arms before he spun his head to sense where the Tablet was.  
  


He was not lying to Rowen when he told her that he began sensing the artefacts as of late. There was a sort of pull whenever the Wadjet key of the Tablet was around. The number of times he's wandered to the Egyptian exhibit by accident in the past few weeks, realising he had been sensing it, showed there was something odd going on.   
  


Only he seemed to notice. He as only relieved Rowen and Ahkmenrah felt it too.  
  


It was the middle of the day, and with the honking of buses, taxis - he could feel his ears ring before sensing his heart starting to beat fast.  
  


Where would the guy go?  
  


He tried to focus on the Tablet and felt a miniature tug down the street opposite the gates of the museum. With another intake of breath, Larry ran. He swerved down the pavement, dodging as much as he could through the crowds of people walking up and down. A woman shrieked into his ear and Larry picked up the bag she had dropped and passed it back to her. She gave him a soured glance before walking away.  
  


Larry swallowed the bile, trying to pan his eyes about and sense the Tablet's whereabouts. He was still a couple of minutes away from the museum, though it seemed the Tablet was getting further. Though, with the number of tourists, workers, and the general public (wearing bags as well), his head began to ache.  
  


He decided to continue forward, leading up to the crossroads. As soon as he spotted the familiar signs and main road filled with red buses, he felt something vibrate in his pocket.  
  


Slowing down his pace, he took a deep breath and said, "Nicky?" He asked quickly, "Why are you-"  
  


"Continue down the road. Shaftesbury Avenue!"  
  


Larry spun his head around, furrowing his eyes in confusion. There was no sign of his son anywhere. "How do you know-"  
  


"Doesn't matter, Dad!" Nick loudly said, "If you want to catch up with the guy, less talking more driving."  
  


"I'm so gonna get kicked out of this country," Larry complained, before shoving taking off once more and pulling enough strength and air to sprint.  
  


Once he got to the crossroads, he was met with multiple lights flashing in his eyes. He squinted as he searched for any indication of the man in the dark jacket and black backpack. But it seemed everyone wore similarly of the colours he had.  
  


Larry pulled the phone back next to his ear. He could hear his own breath mix with his voice. "Where now?"  
  


"Take a left on to Charing Cross Road," Nick instructed. "Then keep going straight down to Trafalgar Square."  
  


How far was that? And Larry refrained to groan out loud at Nick's bossy tone. He did not understand how long the road was. It seemed to stretch for miles, and the traffic was not worth to get a taxi.   
  


' _How the hell does he know where I am?_ ' He asked himself but then told his mind to shut up and continued.  
  


There was still no figure of any sense of the Tablet, making his let out a snarl. He continued to walk down until he arrived what looked familiar in the pictures he's seen. Trafalgar Square was a bustling hub filled with black cabs, red buses and groups of tourists flashing their cameras and sticking their selfie sticks everywhere. With the familiar Roman building of the National Gallery and the fountains couldn't help Larry stop to admire it.  
  


It gave him time to take a breath, focusing his eyes to find any figure that looked like the man at the museum. It didn't help when he found out that about five different roads were leading out of the square, making him curse internally.  
  


' _How am I going to find him out of all of this?_ ' He asked himself before he let another huff. Maybe he should have thought this through. Rowen was probably preparing her row with him the moment he returns.  
  


In the corner of his eye, he then spotted the blurry figure of the man.  
  


Eyes flashing in realisation, Larry sped down the stairs and race towards him. Luckily the thief hadn't noticed him yet, disappearing down the street lined with trees, heading towards the Thames.   
  


He was several yards ahead of Larry, and he quickly contemplated taking one of the bikes lying about. ' _There's no time._ ' Larry thought, before dodging another couple holding hands down the pavement. ' _And I'll probably cause an accident._ '  
  


As soon as he arrived at the crossroads, he then spotted the thief entering one of the buildings.   
  


"Shit!" Larry pressed his phone up to his ear, hearing Nick curse. "He's gone underground. I don't think I can see-"  
  


"Don't worry, you gave me a good job." He said, he carefully made sure he heard him add. "Now make sure you and Becca are safe, kay?"  
  


Nick sniffed and replied, "I will."  
  


As the line cut off, Larry ventured across the road and entered the London Underground. It was in his luck that he still got the valid ticket he forgot in his pocket, passing through easily but not as fast as he wanted. The escalator down was packed with people, and he could see the top of the man's head and the backpack sticking out at the bottom of the escalator.  
  


Before he was even halfway, the thief had disappeared down into the corridors and blended into the rows and queues of people filing towards the platform.  
  


Larry impatiently walked down, keeping his eyes trained as he tilted his head up.  
  


However, by the time he arrived at the platform, there was the sound of the train doors closing. He was left standing on an empty platform, his hands ruffling his hair in frustration. He could feel his heart pumping, his body drenched in sweat. The pull of the Tablet was beginning to dwindle.  
  


It was too late. They were long gone.  
  


People began to fill the platform, pushing and shoving around him as they tried to get to the front. He felt a blow of wind slap his face, seeing the light growing at one end of the tunnel. As the next train slowed to a halt, he considered if it was worth it to follow the thief still. Larry knew there was no chance he could find the man again. There was probably a dozen stops he could have gotten off after this. Even then, he would have disappeared into the streets of London when he got to the surface.  
  


However, the possibilities that were growing in his mind didn't stop him from entering the train and moving forward. The doors slid closed, and he quickly grabbed the nearest handle and felt the force of the train pull him to the side.  
  


Larry stared around the congested cabin, the pungent smell of sweat, perfume and body odour lingering in his nose. The sound of a baby crying echoed from one end of the cabin whilst he could feel his heart thumping against his chest. He had not run like this for months, despite being fit for his age. He had to thank the museum life for that.  
  


"He got off at Waterloo."  
  


Head lifting upwards, Larry found the voice whispering by his side.  
  


Right beside him was an ordinary man. His curly hair messy compared to his rather expensive jacket and white trainers. He must be around Nick's age by his face, though with the stern and cautious expression on him.  
  


Larry gave him a look of suspicion. He had no idea who this man was, and he definitely was talking to him.  
  


The train stopped at the next station, his eyes glancing across through the window to see the same name the man spoke of. The man didn't move as the doors flew open, though his head nudging Larry towards the exit spoke otherwise.  
  


Larry questioned, "Who are you-"  
  


He grunted, feeling the man's hand grasp his sleeve and shoved him out of the train. It took a few seconds to recollect his thoughts, startled at what just happened. When he looked back up, the young man stared at him.  
  


"Someone that's trying to help." The man answered, and then spoke. "Now go. He will try to reach the Needle."  
  


"What needle?" Larry asked, spirally into more confusion than ever before.  
  


The doors were beginning to close, and the final words he heard were: "...The Thames!"  
  


The ringing of the train warnings echoed around him before the train slowly exited the station and back into the darkness. It must have taken him several seconds to process what just happened before reminded himself that he still needed to catch up with the guy.  
  


Jogging down the white-walled corridors towards the exit, he felt his phone buzz and he answered. He exhaled,  
  


"Rowen."  
  


"Gods, Larry!”  
  


He could hear the panic in her voice. She asked, "Where did you go?"  
  


"Waterloo Station." He quickly said, continuing to hurry up the escalator and running towards the entrance.  
  


"Fuck, I'm on the other side." Rowen cursed and then asked. "Where's he going now?"  
  


After he passed the ticket gates, he heard the blasting of traffic and the cool breeze returning around him. He panned his eyes from both sides of the street, trying to identify any recognition of his jacket.  
  


"I'm still following him. But he trying to get to the Thames. Some needle or-" Larry hissed, spotting brown eyes stare back at him.  


His eyes widened before he bolted into a run.  
  


"He's seen me, gotta go!" Larry called out before slipping his phone back into his pocket.  
  


Larry sped down the street, seeing the thief turn to the right- heading towards the river. Exhale, inhale, exhale: he could have sworn his lungs were going to give in as he dodged the pedestrians around him.  
  


A woman shrieked as he shouted an apology before jumping over the bench. Green patches of grass and trees began to appear in his surroundings before he spotted the figure leap off the marble wall and ran across into the crowd.  
  


Larry stared up, seeing the large structure standing beside the Thames. The London Eye stood proud and round, keeping the eyes of tourists focused on the monument. He waded through the masses, hearing more shouts of protest. People were thrown on the ground as the thief created a path of destruction. He wanted to stop and help the rest, but he didn't have any time.  
  


Now, the two were running down the riverside, hearing more screams erupt as the thief got closer to the bridge.  
  


Larry was shoved back, feeling a large mass hit him. He found himself falling to the ground, groaning in pain. When he looked up, he found himself met by a vendor. Sauces and food sprawled over the ground. The vendor was glaring daggers, spitting out a nasty string of swearwords. He heard people gasp around him and he gestured his hands.  
  


"Look, I'm sorry! But I need to get this guy-" Larry cut himself off as he got back up, walking gradually away from them before sprinting back to the direction he last saw the thief.  
  


He heaved up the stairs, spotting the black hooded figure race down the bridge towards Big Ben. Just as he was about to get closer, he skidded to a stop as he saw the figure turn to look back. However, the thief had seemed to ignore the young couple walking towards him.   
  


The thief went straight towards them, falling onto the ground with them as his bag plopped onto the hard ground. Larry began to jog closer, but then he suddenly felt his heart grow cold.  
  


Suddenly, there was a large bang.  
  


He could feel his heart pounding, hands shaking as he couldn't believe his eyes.  
  


There was a scream before a body fell onto the ground once more. The thief got up, slinging the backpack up. However, at that time: Larry spotted his hood falling off his head - revealing the face of their thief.  
  


And he could not believe who it was.  
  


It was Kai's friend.  
  


And he had a gun pointed at every single person around him.  
  


"Stay back!"  
  


Garret Trench warned, firing another bullet up at the sky as he barked. "Stay back or they get hurt!"  
  


He looked like a rabbit animal. With red feral eyes that glowed.   
  


Larry gaped in shock. Those eyes were brown before.   
  


' _Just like Khafre..._ ' He realised. ' _He's not himself._ '  
  


"Just give it back okay?" He could hear himself shout through the multiple screeching of tyres and horns. "Put the gun down-"  
  


Another bullet shot through the air and Larry's body jerked as he spotted another body collapse by the sidewalk. People were beginning to off the bridge, leaving him and several cars and taxis with him.  
  


The buses and taxis stopped, people flying out as they raced out of the vehicles. Glass shards flew over his head, as Larry took shelter behind the red bus. His ragged breaths were all he could muster to hear, as well as more screams and cries hurdling around him.  
  


This made no sense. Why pull a stunt now?  
  


' _He's crazy!_ ' He screamed in his head. ' _That douchebag knows this is a death-trap. He's trying to pull as many people as possible down before he does._ ' Larry opened his phone, only to find the screen cracked. He tried to turn it on, but all he received was a black screen.  
  


Letting another curse, Larry glanced behind the bus and saw a man racing off the bridge.  
  


And in an instant, the man fell to the ground. His body not moving at all. His eyes wide opened, staring back at him with no trace of emotion.   
  


Dead. The man was dead.  
  


He couldn't breathe. He clenched his chest with his fist, repeating to himself more words of encouragement. Larry needed to stop Trench before he could kill any more of them.  
  


He tried to find something he could use and discovered a car door dislodged from the piles of crashed vehicles. With a hefty heave, he lugged it in front of his body before exiting the safety of the bus.  
  


Down beside the edge of the bridge, he could spot him talking - a mixture of English and some other language - to no one. Perhaps he had a phone or a speaker - Larry was not clear enough to see.  
  


Closer and closer, he edged towards Trench. He looked occupied; his gun aimed at a person that looked to be in their sixties. With Trench's back against the edge and the elderly man knelt on the floor with shaking hands, Larry then took the risk.  
  


However, he then felt his body shake in fear as he saw the old man fall to the ground. Red beginning to stain the ground.  
  


Trench had simply pulled the gun again.   
  


On an innocent man.  
  


He wanted to be sick. But Larry pushed the vile taste out of his mouth before he felt his anger overcome him.   
  


Metal clashed against Trench's side, as Larry shoved the car door into his body. His grasp slipped off the door, letting the thief collapse on the ground - dropping the backpack and gun as well.  
  


Larry then raced to grab the backpack. Though just in the corner of his eyes, he saw him grab the gun and pointed it toward two figures. His let out a gasp, before speeding towards the mother and child.  
  


A mother and a child! The child looked to be eight or nine by the oldest.  
  


Where had they come from?   
  


"Get behind me!" He told the two strangers, backing them on the sidewalk before glaring at Trench.  
  


He had lost his chance, finding Trench hobbling just a few feet away - with the Tablet still in his hand.  
  


"You think I'll just cheaply give it away?" Trench scoffed and revealed the object from his bag.  
  


The Tablet glimmered under the sun.  
  


Larry gaped and said to himself, ‘ _How? How the fuck can he hold it?_ ’  
  


"I've been waiting for this to happen for so long." Trench spoke loudly, mesmerized by the artefact in his hands.  
  


"Look, Garry. Garfield whatever. Just give me the Tablet!" Larry demanded, trying to cover the woman and child behind his body. “That Tablet is not yours! That’s the museum’s property.”  
  


He barked out a laugh, before replying. "Not a chance, night guard. It's the end for you and your friends." Trench proclaimed, “ ** _I have returned, and you and the Ennead cannot stop me!_** _”  
  
_

That voice.  
  


It was the same voice he heard from Khafre. Before, Larry never understood what he was saying. Now: he knew perfectly well the spine-shivering voice that echoed from within his own ears and mind. Word could not grasp how he felt the fear and cold rising up from his fingertips.  
  


“ ** _Is that what you’re after?_** ” Larry questioned loudly and realised what he was speaking in. “ ** _The Tablet?_** ” And the moment he realised; he clamped his mouth shut.  
  


Trench eyed him with a smirk. “ ** _You’ve finally caught on, Nephthys. Finally connected to your guardian at such a terrible time._** ”  
  


“Okay, enough talking, Set!” Larry returned to speaking freely, panting at the shock of it all. “Trench. I know you’re there. Please, this is not who you are!”  
  


Trench’s red eyes narrowed. “I am who I am, Lawrence Daley! I willingly chose to give my body to him! And perhaps I would give Set another present.” As he finished, Trench lifted the gun and aimed it to his direction.  
  


Hearing the click, Larry did something brave.  
  


And something stupid.  
  


He felt something tore right through him. A burst of nerves exploded from his stomach, sending a shock wave of coldness up his spine before a flare of heat followed. Larry felt like he was on fire, as he felt his throat dry up, choking as he begged for more air. His legs wobbled before him, and he took the moment to run straight towards Trench.  
  


Tackling him onto the ground, Larry snatched the Tablet from his hands and shoved the golden artefact against Trench's face - letting out a scream of agony.  
  


"Argh!" Trench screeched, as smoke began to rise. His cheeks grew red before a black charred mark began to crawl up his arm and neck. "Damn that fucking curse! **_Damn you!_** ”  
  


Larry pried the Tablet off him, limping backwards. As he tried to turn, he could feel his body roaring in pain. It felt like a fire was burning him from the inside, as he stared at the thief beginning to stand up.  
  


Trench turned to him; the Tablet's marking tattooed on across his face. Letting another snarl, he lifted his trembling hand and pointed the weapon at Larry's chest.  
  


This was it.  
  


This was how Larry was going to die.  
  


He scrunched his eyes, preparing for it.  
  


There was the echo of a bullet hitting skin.   
  


However, Larry felt nothing from it.  
  


When he opened his eyes, what he imagined of Trench standing before him never came. What appeared in front of him was a body thrown onto the floor, the clattering onto the ground.  
  


Trench's body in fact.  
  


He staggered a breath of shock before he hobbled closer to him. Once he leaned over the man's body, he then saw what he had not expected.  
  


A bullet hole in Trench's forehead.  
  


"What..." Larry let a breathless voice, before feeling his knees buckling under him. He lifted his hand from his stomach, seeing the palm of skin coated in blood.   
  


His blood.  
  


And with one last breath, he could hear sirens echoing around him - before hearing the clatter of metal hitting the ground for the last time...darkness filling his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, please don't hurt me what I just did!


	47. Hanging by a Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's his choice now to live or pass on his gift to another, but what the Ennead gives him will test his inner strength.
> 
> As for Rowena, she must tackle through the aftermath of Garret Trench's actions, and the raging storm that is Leslie Trench nee Carter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a very busy few weeks. I really am sorry for not updating this but here was are. A rather long chapter which seems a bit too dragging so hopefully some time I'll cut some parts out to make it a little bit tidier.
> 
> Thanks again for reading this far! And hope you guys are enjoying this Christmas season (even if it's still in a pandemic).
> 
> Stay safe and have a good day/evening/night!

**Larry XXXI  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

Some say there are about thirty seconds in which a person would experience their entire life flashing through their mind before they would be blinded by the white light at the end of the tunnel. Often from those who experienced life-death situations that they could imagine and reminisce their achievements, their love ones and their passions before they could move onto the unknown. They would see the faces of their parents, their mothers, their fathers, their siblings, their wives or husbands or friends.  
  


He never experienced seeing death like this, not after the death of Grandpa Robert. He was just a little boy then and probably didn't remember it as well as he hoped.  
  


However, seeing someone die was different to actually dying himself.  
  


Larry was in a paradox, swirling in a void that he wasn't sure if it was his mind or what he truly believed to be those last thirty seconds. And if so, where were the memories? The faces of his love ones. Nick, Rebecca, his parents, Aunt Carol, the Exhibits and Rowen? He was just floating somewhere, clueless and unknown in the dark depths of the cold abyss. He couldn't feel anything, only assuming that it was cold by how empty it was around him. He couldn't hear anything as well. Was this all it was? Had they lied to him?  
  


Firstly, Larry Daley wasn't a philosophical man. He never delved into the trivial of how the mind worked or what happened beyond death. Yes, he believed to find himself to enter heaven, where God would accept him in open arms and find himself in a realm of light and clouds and angels with his family and friends. But Larry wasn't like that all the time. He didn't think about it, knowing it was best to think of the present or the nearby future. It was all he thought about. His life. Not the unknown once his heart stops beating.  
  


It was why it frustrated to no end when he tried to reach out, trying to sense his body running towards whatever direction he picked. But nothing. Nothing happened.  
  


Until there was a flicker of light. A light so small and yet so blindly bright in his eyes.  
  


Larry began to somehow go towards it, scrambling to find some solace from the darkness until the light enveloped him whole. He scrunched his eyelids tightly, before sensing the heat soar around his body.  
  


He then felt something coarse underneath his feet. Stone. Dust.  
  


When he pried his eyes open, Larry looked around and saw his surroundings.  
  


What appeared to be garden had yet to let him comprehend the figure that sat on the bench within the flora and fauna. With all the beauty and wonder around him, nothing could compare the light that glowed around the woman in front of him.  
  


She had the darkest skin, with brown hair in braids, long as they carried down behind her back. She wore a dark green dress lined with jewels and gold that hugged her slim figure, matched with the simple gold band over her head. As her face lifted upwards, he saw the orange eyes glimmering under the light. They weren't red like Set's. Whilst Set's eyes were like flames burning hot and violently; this woman's eyes were warm and calm like a gentle fireplace.  
  


Something about her made him think twice to approach, never letting go oh his eyes aimed at hers. It was there, her eyes flashed in surprise and rose from her perch.  
  


"W-where am I? Who are you?" Larry asked, nervous as she stepped closer to him.  
  


The garden seemed to follow around her, the branches of the bushes rustling as her dress flowed around her.  
  


The woman said, "You ask many questions, guardian. And yet you do not act upon them."  
  


He wryly replied, "Well, you're not exactly helping me."  
  


The woman looked at him with a solemn gaze and revealed herself. "I am Nephthys, and you are dying Lawrence Daley."  
  


"What?" He spoke. "I thought this was...you know-" He gestured his hands, trying to imply whilst being at awe at the goddess now in his presence.   
  


Nephthys cracked up a small smile and answered: "Not yet. I was able to pull you out before you can be guided by Anubis." Her lips curled to a frown and she stared sternly back. "An action I will have to deal with the consequences with."  
  


Guilt began to seep through and he almost felt bad for the goddess in front of her. Even if she looked put together as the most beautiful person he had ever seen, her eyes told more of a deeper - and fractured - history. They hold a secret no one could ever know, showing a dimmed light like a small flame in a large room. He had seen it in people's eyes already. Like the exhibits and Rowena; even Cecil wore those tired eyes.  
  


But seeing her wondered why. Why did she do it? He couldn't help but blurt out, almost begging by the tone of his voice.  
  


"Then help me!" Larry pleaded, the emotions now rolling over him as he began to feel an aching pain grow in him. "I can't leave them! Not when they're after them. Not my son...Rebecca, Rowen."  
  


The Egyptian goddess only stared at him with pity, close to feel her scent linger yet so far to grasp her and plead her. For something. Some miracle to save him.  
  


He begged, "Please, you've got to tell me what to do."  
  


"I cannot give you what you want," Nephthys replied. She firmly spoke, "You must wake up yourself, guardian. Only you can come back to the mortal world before you're pulled into the Halls of Truth."  
  


Larry stuttered, "But...I don't know...how-"  
  


The throbbing pain already grew every second Nephthys looked at him with a pondering gaze. Did she expect him to know what to do? Hell, he had never even expected to meet her let alone understand what she was trying to imply. Larry hadn't even heard of her name ever since the Smithsonian, which Khafre mentioned her and he didn't have a clue what the wax dickwad was talking about.  
  


Now the goddess was trying to keep him alive. He's never needed her help for years and she expected him to trust her?  
  


"You must now trust the power you were bestowed," Nephthys began, her hands clasped over his. She looked forward, eyes boring right into his with compassion and command. "Trust your instincts. Protect the guardians. Follow her."  
  


Larry whispered, "Follow who?"  
  


"A familiar face," Nephthys answered, removing her hand off his. "The same face that has led you to me all this time." The moment she let go, her body began to move further away - almost gliding out of his grasp.  
  


He reached out with his hand, aiming to grab the goddess' arm, to bring her back and answer his dire questions. But when he went to take her palm, his hand went through her. A translucent shimmer enveloped Nephthys body until all he spotted was those glowing eyes.  
  


Once Nephthys blended into the surroundings, Larry was met with silence. What was he going to do now? He felt so utterly lost, even more than the beginning of this whole ordeal. The pain in his stomach didn't stop, only worsen as he stood in the middle of the garden.  
  


Suddenly, there was an instant pull.  
  


It only took several seconds until Larry began hobbling down the path and into the building that surrounded the forest around him. Columns lining each side of the entrance as he leaned against one to take a breath. Larry body was screaming to stop, to slump on the floor and to give into death. But his mind was screaming in defiance. Is confused him how even in this dream state, it felt so real. He could sense everything. The taste of blood in his mouth, the coarse dust that lined the surface of the floor.   
  


He should be dead. But instead, Larry saw something appear around the corner.  
  


"Hetepheres." He breathed in, and he realised who the goddess had mentioned.  
  


Standing several feet away was the Egyptian woman herself.  
  


The years passing was evident. Now the same height at him, Hetepheres was a sight to behold. With jet black hair that flowed down her back, a plain face and golden eyes that still glimmered under the light. Despite loving Rebecca and admiring her beauty, this woman was an entirely different level. If Larry could say it freely, he had to admit that she could match Nephthys any day.  
  


However, his mind was snapped back to the present when she said loudly.  
  


"You again...how did you get in here?" She demanded, hostility on her expression and tense body. She warily got closer, unsure if he would try to harm her.  
  


"Not sure," Larry admitted, but then changed the subject. "Look, I'm...I didn't mean to intrude. Wherever we are but-"  
  


"How do I know if I can trust you, Larry Daley?" His name felt odd with her accent, and it couldn't help but feel slightly surprised. She still remembered his name, after so many years.  
  


Larry sighed, raking fingers through his hair in frustration. "Hetepheres, look." He assured her. "You just have to trust me." Flinching, he gazed down and removed his hand off his front, his palm covered in blood. Once he turned to her, he immediately saw the colour draining out of her cheeks.  
  


Her eyes widened, startled, and she quickly went up to him. "You're bleeding. I will take you to a healer."  
  


Waving his free hand, he gestured to her. "No! It's not going to work! I-" He shut his mouth, clenching his jaw when another cramp surged up to him.  
  


She gave him a look and question aloud. "Why?"  
  


"You're dreaming this. This isn't real." He told her, only to receive a scoff.  
  


"Of course, this is real." Hetepheres refused to believe what he spoke of.  
  


"No." He firmly repeated. "Every time we've met. It's all a dream."  
  


She still didn't seem convinced.  
  


So he explained further: "Nephthys stopped me from going to Anubis? Yeah him." Larry backtracked slightly, before nodding. "Yes, Anubis. She said I needed to see you. She said you can help me to find something...which can I ask: where are we?" When he finished, he was met with mouth agape in front of him.  
  


Hetepheres pursed her lips quickly, deciphering by how her eyes pierced his and almost tried to shoot an arrow into his mind. And even if he was still bleeding to death, she too focused on thinking hard if this was all real.  
  


Well: if he wasn't dying, he would probably be taking the whole time debating if this was just all a simulation and all. Maybe he shouldn't have watched the Matrix with Nicky two weeks ago.  
  


Though it wasn't long before he sensed an arm wrap around his arm. He blinked several times, surprised the words coming out of her mouth. "The Royal Gardens. Where do you wish to go?" Hetepheres confirmed and then questioned him.  
  


It was his turn to be in disbelief. As much as he knew everything about Hetepheres since he's practically watched her entire life in his dreams up to this date, he would think interacting with the woman was going to be awkward. They didn't know each other and they've never been able to talk through these dream states. Heck, Larry still couldn't control what this entire power the Gods (he still can't believe there are actual gods) gave him.  
  


God. Thinking about this made his head spin.  
  


And it wasn't because of the blood loss.  
  


Larry responded with one simple question and gawking expression ."Why do you follow me now?"  
  


"I'm not sure." She answered quietly, glancing quickly to the side before turning back to him. "But if this is a dream, and that Nephthys has saught me to help you, I will do my best to make sure you complete whatever there is you need."  
  


He raised an eyebrow. "What if she didn't? And I'm lying?" He questioned back.   
  


Larry wanted to test her. He wasn't sure why it came out slightly rude, but it was the only way to see some truth from her. Not that he didn't trust her. It should be the other way. She didn't know that he knows her entire life. And with the weird time travelling shit going on, Larry knew they would never be able to meet in real life.  
  


Hetepheres answered, "This is my dream as much as yours." She paused before adding. "And if you truly are...dying: I want to help you in any way if I can."  
  


He gave her a silent stare, still confounded by how she accepted what was happening to him. Maybe it was the fact that after all these years, he still felt unsure of getting help from time to time. The first time that he was given aid at the lowest point in his life was by Rowen herself. Now it was Hetepheres. Two women that had taken him under their wing to pull him out of the dark pit even if they didn't know him or saw his past. Rowen and Hetepheres were there when nobody was.  
  


"I think we need to go this way." Larry shook his head, and then tightened his grip over his stomach, ignoring the red stains littering on his shirt. He noticed that some blood already went over onto Hetepheres dress, though she didn't bat it an eye as she grasped his hold tightly. "You just got to support that- yes."  
  


It took several times to adjust, though the longer they moved into the building, Larry got used to staggering with Hetepheres with her help who kept him upright.  
  


The entire place was empty, no person in sight as they went past each closed curtain doors. And despite being the only two, there was no sense of loneliness for Larry. No matter how large and spacious the place was, the palace which he had seen in his dreams was always bustling with people. Now it felt like it was in the modern-day, empty and stuck in the past.  
  


As they turned around the corner, entering a smaller yet more decorated corridor, Hetepheres and Larry were already exhausted. Hetepheres voice was rather breathless, questioning him carefully. "Who hurt you, if I may ask?"  
  


Larry took a step too far, finding himself tripping over his shoes. Sucking in a breath, he winced in pain, feeling her fingers clench his body so he wouldn't fall. As he balanced again, he heaved out an answer.  
  


"Agh...someone who tried to steal something. He...he was going to give it to someone who wanted to use it. And I was an idiot and chased after him. With no weapon or back up and tried to take him down." Larry sighed quickly and groaned. "God, I just feel stupid."  
  


She looked ahead, but in the corner of his eye, he could see her lips twitch. "That sounds rather familiar," Hetepheres said.  
  


He flicked his head to her. "Really?"  
  


"Yes. My brother-in-law." She stated, "He is...is somewhat reckless despite being so clever in mind. He once left his family because he needed to figure out a secret and travelled down the Nile on his own, at such an age and dangerous time as well." There was fondness in her tone, making Larry warm-up at hearing her speak of her family.  
  


"Huh...I guess we don't change a bit." He mused tiredly.  
  


She asked him another question. "Why did you do it?"  
  


"Because...because I felt that I needed to. Not just because it's my job to protect the Tablet during the day but you know, it seems like second nature now." Larry joked even if he could tell that the Egyptian woman would probably take it seriously.  
  


Hetepheres piped back with a smile that never left her face. "I shouldn't be surprised now. That you're a Guardian of Nephthys, that is."  
  


"Do you know about them now?" He questioned. He wondered if she remembered their encounter in detail when she was still young. He had blurted out that she was a guardian but she didn't clearly know what the title entailed.  
  


So when Hetepheres grew quiet, pursing her lips. "I...I heard of things. Stories." Her brows furrowed. "But how? The person who knows of it is-"  
  


He cut her off with a sharp hiss. "Let's just not talk about it." Larry took another breath. "If this is all real, I don't want to destroy the future or some shit."  
  


She nodded quietly, and they continued down the hallway until Larry stopped in his tracks and forced her to a halt. His head rotated to the left, finding himself looking at a door and he nudged them towards it until Hetepheres clung back around his side and entered the room.  
  


Where they arrived appeared to be some sort of bedroom to an extent. There was a bed and several wooden chairs. Potted plants littered the place whilst the walls were lined with golden paint. Instead of a window, there was an open patio towards a private garden, the waters of the fountains glimmering under the sun through the translucent curtains.  
  


"Why are we here?" She muttered, curiosity in her expression.  
  


Larry asked instead, "Where is here exactly?"  
  


She hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "These...these are the family quarters." Hetepheres stared at the empty bed before glancing at him. "Mine and my husband's."   
  


"Who is your husband?" He blurted out, regretting to pry into her personal life.  
  


"Kahmunrah the First."   
  


Suddenly, Larry's heart skipped a beat.   
  


"Kah- You're his wife!" He spluttered and yelped when he felt another pain thrust up his spine.   
  


Hetepheres was still staring at him.  
  


"I know...I know him." He explained. "Well, I know since I met his family. Well-in the future. My present; your future I guess but-"  
  


He then stopped rumbling after he suddenly couldn't breathe. Seconds later, he felt himself staggering down to the floor, letting go of Hetepheres grasp the moment his back hit the cold stone floor. The world began to spin, hearing a whizzing noise of sirens, screams and engines.  
  


"Larry! What's happening?" He could barely hear Hetepheres from the rest let alone see the blurry image of her staring down at him.  
  


He slurred out, "The voice...in... my head."  
  


It was becoming difficult to comprehend what he truly was seeing. When he blinked, he could see yellow, dark figures in green as he heard more sirens going off. Was this reality? Did the ambulance come in time?   
  


Something was strapped onto him. A needle, perhaps? And an object covering the lower part of his mouth, a see-through mask. Larry didn't know any of the vague faces he saw, flickering his eyes back up and seeing someone else in his mind.  
  


It was Nephthys again. Though what surprised him was where he was.  
  


He could feel the grass under his toes the moment he stood in Central Park. And right in front of him was the goddess herself, wearing the same billowing clothes and those dangerous eyes. He wanted to go to her, to shout and question. But before he could do, he heard another voice speak around him and inside his own head.  
  


" _Larry...come on Larry...do it for your son._ " An unknown voice told him and he suddenly felt pulled back by an invisible force.  
  


When he widened his eyes back, he found Hetepheres still gazing down at him - worried to the bone. "My son..." He gasped, eager to bring back the air inside him. "Nicky...he's calling for me."  
  


"Where shall I find him?" She asked, anxious to aid him.  
  


He could only be thankful for the gods that he chose someone like her right now. "No, no. It's fine, Heteph." Larry's eyes watered, tear threatening to fall. "I think...you can't help me...not when I'm dying..."  
  


A finger brushed away the tear. "You are not alone, Larry Daley. I'll be here." Hetepheres promised him. "I shall try to keep you awake."  
  


_"Dad!"  
  
_

His vision blurred again and he internally pleaded for this all stop.   
  


The last words he heard from Hetepheres was her calling his name. "Larry? Larry. What is happening..."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

" ** _Wake up, Lawrence Daley. You must wake up._** " Nephthys commanded.  
  


His vision gone white, blinded by what seemed to be a light. Mumbling and orders were being barked about. ' _Okay, this is really getting out of hand._ ' Larry groaned. ' _Am I dreaming or is this real?_ '  
  


The last thing he saw was a man wearing blue before everything went white again.  
  


_"Larry?"_ He heard Rebecca soft pleas echoing around him. _"Honey...please don't leave me. Don't leave Nick. He...He needs you. I-I need you!"  
  
_

Rebecca's voice faded, and he tried his best to run towards the voice.  
  


_"Dad, please. You can do this. Only someone like you can pull through!"_ Nick's desperate tone resonated around him this time and forced himself to continue through the blank void.  
  


However, no matter how much he could get closer, the minute he grasped onto the voice it faded again. Stuck in an endless blank unknown, Larry could feel nothing but his own heartbeat. The thumping against his chest as the swirling of his surroundings tugged him out of the void and back what seemed to be the same room.  
  


But this time, it felt different to the room he had been with Hetepheres.  
  


Larry walked around the column, only to find two figures standing by the bed. One was Hetepheres - he could clearly identify - who was kneeling. However, this Hetepheres was several years older, not much by looks though by how tired her eyes were. The Hetepheres that helped him move to this room had more life and happiness in her face.   
  


But this one, it showed raw uncertainty...and fear.  
  


What was happening? What happened?  
  


Larry glanced outside, finding the moon shining brightly in the open night. He could hear the sounds of screams and cries, and every bang he heard it followed the patterns of his heartbeat. Something definitely was wrong. This vision was somewhere in Hetepheres future, what appeared to what was a siege.  
  


The palace was under attack.  
  


Another crashing sound followed by a high pitch scream sent Larry flicking head to the noise - only to stare at a child beside Hetepheres. By how he appeared, he could see the similarities between Hetepheres and the boy. Though instead of gold eyes, he had brown ones. Brown eyes filled with fear and innocence that Larry felt his heart clench in horror.  
  


"Mama, I'm scared." The child said to Hetepheres. "Where's Djedefre, Mama?"  
  


His jaw dropped the moment he realised who it was. He almost felt his heart shatter seeing the pain and sorrow in her eyes.  
  


"I don't know, my son." Hetepheres smoothened her hand over her son's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "He's keeping the enemies out of our home."  
  


Her son nodded, biting his lip. "I miss him." He spoke. "I don't want to go."  
  


It was as if all confidence and bravery fell in one phrase in Hetepheres face the moment her son spoke. He saw the Egyptian woman on the verge of tears but trying every inch of her mind and body to not break. All for her son.  
  


More tears began to slip her cheeks, and she whispered to him. "It's okay, **_sa ek_**. We will see him again."  
  


Him? Larry wondered who they were talking about.  
  


"We'll see Papa?" The child questioned, hope now sparkling in his eyes.  
  


However, the sadness never left Hetepheres. "Yes, Ramses." She answered honestly. "We will see him again."  
  


Watching the two hug sent a wave of emotion to him. He wasn't sure why he was seeing this. What did it mean?   
  


Then out of nowhere, Larry turned around to find a large crash echoing near him. Shards of wood flew towards him, Hetepheres and Ramses - letting the youngest scream as figures flooded into the room.  
  


The next moment was so hasty. Soldiers, spears, swords.  
  


Red. So much red.  
  


And a dagger aimed at Ramses'.  
  


He screamed at them, fighting back. But as he tried to push a soldier away, his arm went through their body. Larry was only a ghost. And this, this was not what he was expecting. And before he could see Hetepheres enter the fold with a dagger of her own, a force tugged him out of the scene.  
  


Inhaling a gulp of air, he fluttered his eyes to find him staring back at Nephthys again. This time, he was standing in Central Park. It was a sunny day in the summer, standing on top of the more open fields overlooking the lakes and the bridge.   
  


However, just like the gardens - there was no one in sight but him and the goddess.  
  


The first thing he spat out was a question. "What was that?"  
  


"You are dying, Larry Daley," Nephthys stated. "You are seeing the last moments of your previous life."  
  


"My...what?" He creased his eyebrows, still confused as ever.  
  


He thanked her for being patient, simply answering back. "You ask why Hetepheres. Out of all the guardians, the Ennead has tasked to dream of her."  
  


"...Rowen said something about guardians reincarnating." He remembered and then eyed her. "But Rowen's Isis' Goddess. And Hetepheres...she's yours?"  
  


Nephthys twitched her lips and she shook her head. "As much as I am fond of the young mortal, I would never choose her as the Guardian of Heka." She looked away for a second to think before returning to him. "Her destiny lies somewhere else, sadly too sooner than I hoped."  
  


"So who is it? Who was it before me?" Larry asked, a little bit worried to know what the truth was.  
  


Nephthys gazed at him with a blank expression, answering back. "Remember her life."  
  


He focused on the vision again. Of Hetepheres and Ramses, wondering why Larry got a vision of him. Usually, if he dreamt of people, they would stick to them. Though this time, he had lost Hetepheres point of view the moment the soldier killed her son-  
  


Larry stopped.  
  


A single word escaped his mouth. "Him."  
  


He saw Nephthys nod solemnly.  
  


' _No. No, it can't be..._ ' He thought, knees buckling beneath him. He felt sick. This. This was his fate. A child.  
  


"The future has been set in stone. Nothing can be changed." She spoke.  
  


He inhaled, his heart beginning to speed faster as he looked at her with seething teeth. "So they're bound to die," Larry questioned. "How- How could you? How could you do this to them?"  
  


When Nephthys heard those words, she was unfazed by the horrific statement he just spoke. She said softly, "The Fates must do what they can to set it right. For the greater good."  
  


Larry snapped, "For the greater good my ass!" He stomped closer, fist clenched on either side before he gestured his hands about. "You're going to make a mother and a child kill themselves! You will make a child suffer for what? A sacrifice? Because they need to die so we could live instead to finish off what they did?"  
  


"You have yet to understand. If he never died, you never have ceased to exist." Nephthys reasoned. "Your entire bloodline would never flow into this path."  
  


"It doesn't matter!" He shouted. "You've ripped so many away. I've seen it! Rowen with her daughter and...Ahkmenrah and his family! You don't understand what you've done to them! You ripped their family apart!"  
  


The tone of the goddess' voice changed, a warning look aimed at him. "You, mortals, believe we do not understand your pain. But we've watched _our_ family rip ourselves apart. Because of power." She shook her head. "I do not want that. But this was the only choice we give. Not after what...what Set had done."  
  


The name sent him staring back at her in shock. He reminded himself of who Set meant to Nephthys. ' _Her husband...or was._ ' He thought. The stories he's read online; listening to Rowen and Ahkmenrah how Nephthys gave in to Set when they were trying to protect Osiris. What did she truly want to do? Was this her punishment? To have to choose a guardian for the Ennead to keep her in line? To stop her from going back to Set?  
  


Larry's voice lowered, pleading. "You can change this. You can fake their death."  
  


"What Hetepheres will do is something that would save the one family that has maintained the good and light in your world. It will be her choice that would not only change the tides but bring her own desires." Nephthys only replied.  
  


He glared and asked, "And how would you know?"  
  


"Because my sister chose the best," Nephthys revealed, a fraction of a second showing the pain and regret written on her face. "And she treasures her guardians too much."  
  


Larry doubted that. Not when all those years for Rowen. And after meeting Nephthys, he wondered if they truly understood what they felt like. For him, it seemed that they all thought of the guardians as pieces of a game. They were just players for their war. Like Ahkmenrah. Like Rowen. Like Hetepheres, Ramses.  
  


Like him.  
  


"What about you?" He questioned her, hopeful to see reasoning with the goddess.  
  


"I have yet to see, Lawrence Daley," Nephthys answered, earning her a small nod.  
  


"But I know you can pull through." The woman encouraged. "You must. Or else, the entire world will fall."  
  


Those last few words sent dread down his body, a tingling feeling at the edge of her fingertips that he almost wanted to scream back. Forty-three years of his life he had met so many people. With so little that believed in him, and rare to tell him how significant he was to their lives. So to hear an Egyptian Goddess tell him, he could change the outcome of the future of billions of lives: the weight of it call caused it to crush Larry himself.   
  


At the end of it all: he was simply a night guard.  
  


"I'm nothing." Larry glanced down, ashamed to even look at her in the eye. "I...I'm only mortal."  
  


"You are more than what you think, Guardian. I have watched your entire life pass. The past, the present and what is yet to come." Nephthys encouraged. "Now wake up Lawrence Daley. Think of the people you love. The memories and the voices of them."  
  


There it took all of his energy and might to focus on the names. The people he loved. His friends, his family. He mumbled the names in his head, his memories of them at the museum. His childhood, and his desires of the future.  
  


He imagined his life with Rebecca and Nick - now a family. With a homely house. And in the house contained a special room with a cradle and bright blue painted walls.  
  


He then saw himself, gazing down in wonder and such love at the bundle of blankets which Rebecca carried. Larry's heart swelled as the tears began to fall.  
  


But before he could savour more of the scene, he looked to Nephthys back in Central Park. She must have given him that vision.  
  


A vision of hope.  
  


"Will I see you again?" He asked her.  
  


Nephthys stared at him with tenderness, like a mother looking at their child. "We won't need to." A few seconds later, the surroundings faded once more as Larry felt something cold against his back.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Fluttering his eyes back, he found himself staring up towards Hetepheres. He was back at the room where he last been.  
  


A worried tone echoed into his ear. "Larry?"  
  


It was still difficult to register who he was talking to. ' _Oh Hetepheres..._ ' He shook his head mentally. ' _You don't know what's yet to happen._ ' He glanced down slightly, before going back up to her and rasping out, "Tell me? You're...you're expecting, aren't you?"  
  


Her shocked expression answered his question perfectly.  
  


"I...how do you know of this?" She breathed.  
  


Larry inhaled, trying to force back the tears. "Dreams. I've watched you grow up. Your whole life. Past and future." He choked out. "You're gonna have a son."  
  


"Why do you tell me this?"  
  


"Because you're going to love him very much." Larry sadly answered.  
  


"Will I?"  
  


"You will." He clenched his eyelids shut and told himself. "Come on! Wake up, Daley!"   
  


"Tell me, please." Hetepheres pleaded. "Tell me his name."  
  


"You're going to be a good mother. And...he'll love you so much as well. He is going to be... a brave, brave kid." He croakily spoke, every word making his heart thrum.  
  


He could feel his body beginning to fade. A force almost pulling him away from this reality to the next. When he tried to take her hand on his, it felt different. It felt solid and yet not.   
  


He was fighting it. Hearing a mix of machines and the murmurs of voices.  
  


Larry could have just left her there and then, but he didn't. She had to know.  
  


' _I'm so sorry..._ '  
  


"...You're my son, aren't you?" She slowly spoke.  
  


"No! God no!" He spluttered out. "I mean not like that but, I was- yanno...Reincarnation and all that."  
  


She said, unsure to him if she was talking to him or herself. "Nephthys chose him, didn't she?"  
  


"I...Argh!" He gritted his teeth, feeling another thrust of pain. He needed to focus to stop the pain.  
  


"This is the future I will have." Hetepheres' face fell in disappointment, shutting her eyes.  
  


Larry sighed. "I'm sorry, Hetepheres. I really am." He continued, rubbing her palm with his hand. "That this. All of this. Your future. I tried to convince her but-" He scrunched his eyes again, feeling another pang - but this time it felt less as bad as before.  
  


Could this mean-  
  


He looked up, finding Hetepheres crying.   
  


"Don't cry. It's okay. You're going to see them again." He murmured to her, seeing tears spilling down her cheeks. "Even when in your deepest darkest moments, you're going to be there with him no matter what. When he has nightmares, you'll stay beside him and sing him lullabies. When he cuts himself or grazes his knee, you'll be by his side. Every _damn_ time. "  
  


Hetepheres choked back a cry, wiping her cheeks. "Gods." She smiled through her tears. "You sound like you're talking about a different person."  
  


"No." He shook his head and answered weakly. "I'm talking about the person right in front of me."  
  


"Larry Daley..." She breathed, cup a hand over his cheek. "I hope you wake up. See your son."  
  


Larry smiled back at the Egyptian woman before him. He saw the love and natural talent she bore. He could hope how much of a mother she would be. ' _You're going to be great, Heteph_.' He silently thought.  
  


One name then left his lips.  
  


"Ramses," Larry revealed, earning hiccup from her.  
  


So many emotions swirled and exploded out of her. Happiness, agony and disbelief - all wrapped up in a pinata that had burst by a stick. There was a part of him which he felt sorry for having to tell her. She didn't deserve this; to know a future that could never change. Because in the end, Larry would take her son's place no matter how she stopped his death.  
  


And instead, here she was: staring at him as if he was Ramses himself. Like a mother to her child again. The same expression he had seen in Nephthys. And with Rowen as well.   
  


Hetepheres smiled. A true happy smile - filled with the hope he wanted to see in her. "Thank you, Larry Daley. For everything. " She softly spoke.  
  


Her face began to blur, fading before him as his last words to her echoed back. "No. Thank you."  
  


Closing his eyes, he could feel himself drift away towards the bright light.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Noises. A whole lot of noises began to enter his ear. A lot of annoying noises as well. So noisy that the first thing Larry felt was his nose twitch in discomfort. Beeping noises and groaning of machines moving as he twitched his fingers to sense something made of cloth.  
  


When he flickered his eyes opened, he sighed in relief to see something modern.  
  


Then the realisation hit him like a sack of bricks.  
  


He was alive.  
  


' _Holy moly I..._ ' He mentally paused. ' _I actually lived. I did it._ '  
  


Larry tilted his head to the side, surprised to discover his fiancee sitting beside him. Focused on a book, her head was supported by her hand as she leaned on the armrest. She looked exhausted, with rugged clothes and messy hair.  
  


How long was he out for?  
  


"Becca...Nicky..." He choked out, mouth too dry to say anything fully.  
  


But it was enough to get Rebecca's attention, who rushed to his side and went to cup his face. Her cheeks were flushed, with red-rimmed eyes that indicated she had cried. For how long, he didn't know. Larry began to worry how long they've been here, considering how their clothes were still the same, with red stains on her shirt.  
  


"Oh my god...Larry." She whispered, shutting her eyes and pressing her lips on his.  
  


When she pulled back, he gave her a tired smile. "Hey..." He murmured back.  
  


"You're awake...you're alive," Rebecca said, relief in her voice as she kept her hands brushing his cheeks - afraid to let go.  
  


Larry reassured her, reaching his hand to her own face and brushing the strand of hair to the back of her ear. "It's okay, Becca." He soothed her. "I'm here...I'm here sweetheart."  
  


They stayed there for god knows how long. But he didn't dare to move and neither did Rebecca. They were together again, and that was what mattered. He missed her presence.  


He was not going to leave them ever again. Not when he now knew something about himself. Larry needed to find time to tell them all what he discovered.  
  


And speaking of his family, he wandered his eyes around the room. In the corner, sitting in a plastic chair, was his son.  
  


"Nick is asleep, want me to wake him up?" She asked him.  
  


Larry answered, "Let him sleep." He then remembered another person who had been there. "Where's...where's Rowen?"  
  


What he had not expected to wake up to was Rebecca's hour-long explanation whilst he was unconscious.   
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

**Rowena XXXIV  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

_Rowena said in deep breaths, calling out to him. "Larry! Larry, can you hear me?" She cried, "Larry, you've got to stay awake!"  
  
_

_He shook his head and cried, "I'm awake...I'm awake!"  
  
_

_She couldn't lose him.  
  
_

_She would die first before Larry Daley could.  
  
_

_Then, she was hearing sirens, feeling a shadow fall next to her. When she found him scream his father's name, her heart plummeted. Nick had followed her from the museum, his face going white as a sheet the moment his eyes looked at the blood pooled over the pavement.  
  
_

_Larry had stopped groaning, gritting his teeth as he peered up to her. "I...Ro...Nicky...where's Nicky."  
  
_

_Next to him, holding his hand, Nick called out to him. "Dad, they're coming. They'll be here." He said, "Please, stay awake Dad."  
  
_

_Rowena did her best to slow the bleeding, propping Larry's head upon her lap as she tried to compress as much of the wound as possible. But with Larry grasping to her arm tightly, it was difficult to do so. Instead, she told Nick to aid her. "_ _Apply more pressure, Nick! Larry keep talking."  
  
_

_"Argh! Getting shot is a pain in the ass!" He roared and swore, "Where the fuck is Khafre when you need him to knock you off your fucking feet?"  
  
_

_Rowen choked out a laugh. Out of everyone, he would try to amuse himself.  
  
_

_"_ _Unfortunately not this time, Daley." She spoke.  
  
_

_"LARRY!"  
  
_

_Looking up, she saw the horror plastered on her friend's face.  
  
_

_"Rebecca...honey." Larry rasped, his hands hurrying to caress Rebecca's cheek.  
  
_

_"Please. Please stay awake." The desperation in Rebecca's voice caught Rowena almost choking out tears. "I'm here, I'm here...Nicky is here...Rowen is here..."  
  
_

_She was then caught off guard hearing a familiar voice.  
  
_

_"Where is he...Garret...Garret!"  
  
_

_Standing up, she searched for the incoming voice and found herself dreading to find the one person she did not want to find here.  
  
_

_"Leslie..."  
  
_

_However, Rowena was too late.  
  
_

_Terror slowly morphed into Leslie's expression as she stared down at Garret's body. His eyes staring back, unmoving._ _Leslie fell to her knees. With shaking hands, she touched his hand and began to mutter his name - only to get no response.  
  
_

_She called to her, trying to grasp for her hand. "Leslie."  
  
_

_"Please, he's not dead. He's not dead." She repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. She stumbled away, blinking profusely as she tried to forget.  
  
_

_Rowena tried to calm her down. "Leslie, listen-"  
  
_

_"You...you're with them." She turned to her, horror and anger coursing over her face. Leslie pointed, "You killed him too..."  
  
_

_It was another shot in the heart as she heard those words escape Leslie's mouth. And in an instant, she found her friend jumping and tackling towards Larry. Just in time, Rowena captured her into her arms - stopping her from approaching.  
  
_

_She pulled her back, struggling and surprised at Leslie's strength. "You are in shock, Leslie. Please, don't-"  
  
_

_Suddenly, sirens roared. And more people in black and yellow jackets filled the scene. She let go of Leslie immediately and hoped she stopped.  
  
_

_Leslie Carted breathed heavily, hands clenched to her sides as she screamed the words no one wanted to hear.  
  
_

_"You shot my husband!"  
  
_

" **Miss Bates?** "  
  


She snapped her head up and relaxed, only to find a middle-aged man stand in front of her.   
  


Standing upright, she dusted her clothes with her free hand, putting her phone away in her pocket as she spoke. "Yes?" She inquired.  
  


He held his hand out to which she shook it firmly with a tight grip. "Inspector Williamson. I am with Scotland Yard." The policeman introduced himself. "How is Mr Daley if I may ask?"  
  


She had just got the call ten minutes ago, hearing Rebecca's tears of joy when she told her that he had pulled through during the surgery. Her heart felt lighter when she heard those words, slumping back on the chair she sat on at the police station.  
  


And despite hearing the good news, there was still a lot of issues at hand.   
  


Like this.  
  


"He's pulled through." She answered.  
  


"That's good news, good." The Inspector nodded and added, "If you're not in a hurry. We would like to ask you some questions before you may return to the Museum and oversee your work."  
  


Rowena didn't complain and obliged. "Of course, lead the way."  
  


They winded down the hallway, before entering a windowless room. A table was placed in the middle alongside two chairs. As she sat down on one end, Inspector Williamson sat the opposite end, the door shutting with a click.  
  


It would seem the interrogation had begun.  
  


"This is a very difficult situation, Ms Bates. Due to the fact that Mr Trench is known as a consultant for the Saqqara Historical Agency. But of course, he had tried to steal a prized possession from the British Museum and has killed five civilians today."  
  


Rowena mentally sucked in her breath, a cold shiver down her spine as she remembered what happened just several hours ago.   
  


"However, Mr Daley was not the one who has shot him."   
  


She shot him back a look.  
  


"Pardon me?" Rowena adjusted her seat, raising a brow. "I...I thought Mr Daley-"  
  


Humming, the Inspector pried open the plastic wallet and removed the small object. "We thought so too. With the gun that was on the floor, there wasn't any indication of Mr Daley touching it at all." He placed the object down in front of them on the cloth. "The bullet which hit Mr Trench was a different make."  
  


"This. This is military made." She muttered to herself. "Sniper rifle..."  
  


This was the many advantages in living through the second world war. Even if the weapons were old fashioned, she took herself to update her information - including the things she loathed. Guns were still artefacts, but they were artefacts of destruction to which she's dealt with. And also been killed with.  
  


So she expected the Inspector to look at her with intrigue, hoping to hear the question come out of his mouth.  
  


"You know your guns, Ms Bates?" He asked.  
  


Rowena answered partially truthfully "I am a historian, I've dealt with historical weapons before."  
  


The bullet was not from the gun Garret Trench held. It was larger. And only someone with great skill and practice could aim well. She pursed her lips and thought carefully. Someone knew about the theft and they were prepared to kill Garret. And a shot that far was a chance worth only for one kill. And when Larry was placed into the fold, she questioned why they shot Garret and not him.  
  


Rowena could tell the Inspector was on the same page as her, giving her an eye of understanding before taking the bullet back into its bag. 'S _omeone knew Garret would go to the bridge. But how? Why?_ '  
  


"It would seem there is a third party somewhere. But for now, I suggest you could return to the British Museum. " He closed the folder on the desk and passed it to the man beside him. "I know that what you carry is worth millions. Something priceless like that shouldn't be exposed. Not that I am an expert, of course."  
  


Rowena asked, trying not to be a bit too suspicious. But this was her friend. If the British police held custody of an American citizen, all hell will break loose. "What are you going to do with him? My friend only wanted to catch the thief."  
  


The Inspector studied her, before answering simply. "He'll be let off the charges." He continued, "As for Mr Trench, we will look into his background to see if there is any indication of reason to his theft."  
  


Rowena nodded before following to stand up and shaking the Inspector's hand. Before long, she exited the interrogation room was escorted to the main reception of Scotland Yard.  
  


She didn't realise how much she clenched the Tablet so hard during that time that she could sense how slippery the Tablet was. She needed to head back the museum, and make sure the Tablet was secure.  
  


' _Oh gods, if the others found out what happened..._ ' Rowena was dreading the moment they would have to tell them what happened. ' _Especially Teddy and Sac when they hear what happened to Larry._ '  
  


She knew her friends are going to have questions. And a very long conversation about Larry's recklessness.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

As she exited Scotland Yard and went to search for a cab, she was shocked to find her Italian friend pacing towards her. "Antonio." She called back, questioning him. "What are you doing here? The Museum-"  
  


"Is fine. I've had Dr Lyons sort it out but I needed to make sure you're okay. " He finished her sentence, taking a breath. "I came as soon as I heard. I'm sorry _amica_."  
  


She was unsure whether to feel comforted by his words after what occurred. Instead, she was awkwardly responding with a stiff nod. "He's fine. He's awake. Alive." Rowena scoffed. "I'm not sure to be happy that he's awake or impressed how stubborn that bastard is."  
  


Antonio caught the sarcasm in her tone and cracked up a grin. "Your friend's a tough one I see." His eyes wander over to the artefact in her arms. "You've got it with you."  
  


She inhaled sharply, hissing back, "If you believe one second I would hand it to you..."  
  


"I know." Antonio exhaled. "That's why I'm asking you to come back with me. To the museum to store it safely back into Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus."  
  


"I still do not trust you. Not even after what happened." She stated, still wary of her friend's true allegiance. Especially what happened today, and Larry getting shot: she felt incredibly hostile at every interaction and person she met.  
  


"...I swore under the gods themselves. An oath like this is taken seriously." Antonio's voice lowered, with honesty that Rowena was almost persuaded to believe him.  
  


"I hope one day you will explain to me what you mean by all of this." She relaxed her shoulders, loosening her tight grasp on the Tablet. Rowena spoke, "You're a good friend, Antonio. But the Tablet. You don't understand how important this is. It's...it's my responsibility."  
  


It seemed her Italian friend understood, nodding slowly back before flicking his eyes away before returning to her. "What about your friends?" Antonio asked.  
  


Rowena answered, "I'll let them know. Rebecca's staying with Nick at the hospital until Larry's stable enough, but I made sure they'll go back to sleep."  
  


"What about the other?" He wondered.  
  


She glanced back at him before quickly looking at Scotland Yard's entrance. When they first got here, they were both separated. The police wanted to gather information from the young Carter whilst she was told to wait for another person. That had been hours ago, and she hadn't left the building since, hoping to spot the redhead woman exit the building before she left. Unfortunately, the evening had already come and sunset was coming.   
  


She could only hope the police treated Leslie well.  
  


"They've been interrogating her for hours. Once she's out, I think she needs someone to go to first." She commented, checking her phone to find several texts from Rebecca and nothing back from Leslie. There was a miscall from Yara, probably preparing to have a shouting match at her for running into a dangerous place without any protection.  
  


"She didn't know?" Antonio raised an eyebrow.  
  


Rowena was surprised as well, and perhaps more relieved. She didn't want her friend involved at with the Order. And finding the tattoo plastered on the back of Garret's neck had shaken her up. What did it mean to them, then? Was it a coincidence that Leslie married someone from the Order?  
  


Or did Garret Trench plan this all along?  
  


"No. Which makes this much worse. For her definitely." She could feel a headache coming as she groaned in exasperation. "Gods, this is messed up."  
  


Her friend sadly smiled, patting her shoulder. "I know, _amica_. Don't blame yourself for this."  
  


"But I do, Antonio." She shook her head, arguing: "Look, I hate others risking themselves for what I was supposed to keep safe. What happened with Larry, if I kept my eyes on the Tablet it would never have been taken."  
  


"Rowen. Hey, breathe _amica_." He assured her, a frown on his lips. "You can't be everywhere at the same time. You can't keep everyone safe like this. You're only human."  
  


She wanted to laugh at that statement.  
  


' _You don't understand, amico._ ' Rowena thought sadly, before gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go return this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sa ek - my son [Ancient Egyptian] (This is related to the translation of mer ek, where sa means son.)
> 
> amico/a - friend [Italian].
> 
> Nephthys - Goddess and sister to Isis, Osiris and Set. Wife of Set and in this story, the first Goddess to meet her Guardian. Unfortunately, this will be the first and only time Larry will see her. But she'll pop up at some parts in the future. :)


	48. His Anchor, Her Ship and Their Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca Hutman was a historian. She then fell in love. That's the story.
> 
> Apart from the fact that she fell in love with a man and his magical museum with exhibits.
> 
> All stuff from fairytales.
> 
> But fairytales aren't supposed to have the prince charming in a hospital bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I decided to split the chapter I had written because I think this is worth its own chapter. We finally got another new PoV that feels rather late to introduce. Rebecca may have only had a short cameo in the movies, but I wanted to give her own spotlight. There's going to more from her, but with what's to happen - it's going to be more action and less pondering.
> 
> We have hit 60 kudos. Gosh damn guys, I'm impressed. 
> 
> Also, I've been doing some research: apparently, there's a thing called betas. I don't know if I should ask. But feel free to comment or send me a message if you do want to. I won't guarantee anything to give anything back for it apart from sending maybe some art or food. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! :)

**Rebecca** **I  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

Rebecca Hutman always thought of having a perfectly normal life. With a job at the museum with a reasonable wage; maybe a feline companion if she had the time to spend at her apartment; and perhaps a decent boyfriend who didn't think of her as someone obsessed with the dead.   
  


She's probably ticked about two of those things (not the companion one since having to babysit a museum filled with animals and exhibits were enough, a cat was just going to add onto the list).  
  


Unless Larry Daley did secretly think she was obsessed with the dead. And even then, he couldn't say anything considering how his closest friends nowadays have been a wax president, a mummy and a poly-resin Native American woman (who are also her friends as well).   
  


However, despite ticking most of her mental boxes, _normal_ was perhaps the wrong word to describe what her life has been for the past eight years. Nobody with a normal life didn't have to spend nights at a museum discussing history with the Sacagawea; or having to buy fifty packets of microwaveable popcorn for the exhibits' movie night. Nobody wouldn't usually just talk about their issues with an immortal woman and a pharaoh mummy like it was some therapy session. No: this wasn't normal to the average human being living on this earth.  
  


It's why it took her a couple of years to get her head around this all. To bring all of this; this secret of the museum coming to life into her life was much like getting hit with a wave at the beach.  
  


And it all began in meeting the man that now laid in the hospital bed beside her.  
  


Larry Daley was the most ordinary man she ever met, and yet he was blanketed by the world of unordinary and showered by the unknown forces. Not that it was an insult. In fact: it was a blessing. To share the abnormal with someone normal was at least something that kept herself firm on the floor - to feel that even if it's strange: she wouldn't be alone in it. Not to mention, seeing the man for the first time awkwardly greet himself in front of her caught her staring at his blue-grey eyes, and that chiselled jaw could cut someone. He was every man's dream of handsome and made her heart flutter when she wakes up by his side.   
  


However, it wasn't all just his looks. In fact, it was far from it. As much as her biological instinct being attracted to an attractive man, for Rebecca: it was all about his personality. His resilience and eagerness. His ambition. But most importantly, his creativity. She never knew how he could think of things so easily when it takes her ten minutes to decide what to wear for the day despite her limited wardrobe. He could think of things on what to create, or do or even give. Like showing the exhibits how to play modern games or create contraptions to keep the animals tamed in their halls. How he could keep an entire museum from...basically setting itself on fire.   
  


He wasn't a leader. Well, not like what a leader would assume to be such as a general like Octavius or the president like Teddy Roosevelt. No, Rebecca saw Larry lead in an entirely different way. He thought of ways to unite the exhibits, to bring together what all of them would enjoy the most and let them bond over it.   
  


That was what Rebecca loved about Larry.   
  


When she first brought Larry to her parents for dinner, Larry had easily drawn them around his finger. They loved Larry to some extent, intrigued by his business and yet unsure by his erratic nature of changing careers. She wasn't surprised; her parents were sometimes difficult and not as opened minded as before. Just like the history books she's read, they were stagnant and stubborn to change.  
  


Her father was the most concerned. Of course, being the youngest of three, she was supposed to the baby of the group. And to finally let go of that last link to be with a man that was slowly becoming more than she expected shouldn't have been an easy yet.  
  


And yet there was a ring on her finger.  
  


It daunted her. Marriage wasn't on her list when she decided to become a historian. No one wanted a boring bookworm obsessed with the dead. Even her older sister and brother admitted that they were surprised Larry Daley stayed. Even herself.   
  


With all these adventures. With Larry being around the magic of it all: he should have picked someone much more special than her.  
  


But then again. Her mother did tell something that implemented her importance. Whilst she wanted a man that swept her off her feet, Larry Daley wanted a woman that would keep him from running into danger.   
  


An anchor, her mother told her when Rebecca showed the engagement ring to her family. And that was practically a month ago.   
  


Both she and Larry knew their boundaries. They knew when it was too far and when one needed to approach the other and tell them to stop. She wondered why Erica accepted to leave him when she could see clearly he was a good man.  
  


And that was it. He was a good man. Too good for his own that he didn't realise how much it could hurt himself and others. His own ambition and determination to do what he believes is right were what made him fall.  
  


And it was what ended him here, in a hospital bed in London - strapped in with a drip and needle and machines that checked his vitals every second time passes.  
  


It was the loyalty that brought him here, which in the end: showed Rebecca the truth. The naked and hurtful truth of loving this man could end up loving a dead man in the end.  
  


Rebecca has almost lost herself the moment she cradled his head in her arms; with his body bleeding before him. Dirty, blood-stained and exhausted: she sat on the pavement with Larry in her arms with tears flowing down her face and snot building up as she wept and begged for him to wake up. She didn't leave his side at all times, never shutting her eyes for a few seconds as the surgery occurred. His life was hanging on a singular rope that was about to snap.  
  


And when that rope snapped, it was like losing all light and life.  
  


Larry had been dead for a minute.  
  


A minute that Rebecca lost all ability to stand or breathe or think.  
  


It was there all dreams of her future with this man had begun to slip away. Her thoughts of seeing him at the altar, to speak their vows and to kiss in front of all their friends and family. To settle down and do the job they love. To watch Nick graduate at university; to give him a brother or sister. A family of their own. It was all gone.  
  


Until she saw the glimpse of a heartbeat. It was so small and short that no one could have predicted it would indicate him to live.  
  


She had cried. Happiness: yes. Anger: perhaps. Angry at what: she wasn't sure. She should be angry at the man that shot Larry. She should be angry at Larry himself: who ran off because he wanted to be a hero. Angry at Rowen: for not being there on time. Angry at herself: for giving herself her own pain in her heart.  
  


And then all of that anger and pain subsided the moment she saw Nick Daley slump on the hospital chair in relief. She forgot the one person that was the most important to Larry Daley. His son.  
  


Nick Daley: the one that was the driving force to Larry Daley's life as to now. It was why he even got the nightguard position in the first place. Not her, or Rowen or the exhibits; him. His son. The one person that has led Larry to firmly place himself into the magical life and brought him back to save the museum eight years ago. He could have easily accepted to leave the museum Dr McPhee fired him, but instead, he stayed that third night to show his son that the exhibits really came to life.  
  


She was surprised that a single father would fathom to date her in the first place. He never thought of the drawbacks of having a kid, in fact, that was the first thing Larry told her. His love for his son was what kept him going and it was something that sent her heart swelling.   
  


The first few times together were awkward at first. Nick and Rebecca were polar opposites to what they enjoyed. Whilst Nick loved his games and his computers and loud music, Rebecca preferred the simplicity of books and the radio charts. Though what bonded them was their admittance to keep Larry firmly on the ground when it came to his mind. They agreed that only one of them couldn't keep the man from being spontaneous and crazy and it led to them making sure he was fed and spoken to enough that it reminded him that the real world was still here.   
  


Not to mention that they even had to take care of Rowen sometimes was even a thing to add on their list of people to care for. Those two for the first few years since the museum coming to life for them had never stopped working. It had been their job to keep them functioning to an extent on top their own life. And Rebecca was glad that they did.  
  


Slowly, she and Nick became friends until she began to feel that sense of motherly instinct growing. Even though she wasn't Nick's mother, and knowing about Erica: she would never become the mother figure in Nick's life. It will always be Erica.   
  


However, it didn't stop her from caring for the teenager. He was a part of her life as much as his to hers. And to experience a parent horribly go through the pain should have traumatised Nick Daley.  
  


Instead, he was there by her side. She made sure he was there. She hugged him as he cried when the doctors took his dad away to surgery. She made sure they both ate something and drank enough or sleep. It was why when Larry first woke up, she was glad Nick was asleep. He hadn't slept for 24 hours and the boy had been sleeping in the worst place possible - a chair.  
  


Despite Rowen offering to drive them back to her house for the evening, both of them declined and told her they would stay until he was stable. If they were desperate they would stay over at the cheap hotel near the hospital, which they had to do as they had been wearing blood-stained clothes for hours.  
  


The morning after Larry woke up, she and Nicky returned to the hospital. Larry was still asleep when they got there, so the room had been fill with nothing but machines beeping and the occasional steps of shoes. Nurses and doctors came in and out, checking how he was doing and they were impressed by how he was healing unbelievably well.  
  


Midday arrived, and Rebecca had slipped away to grab some food. One thing's for sure, she had to thank the UK for not crippling her credit card. The burden of having to pay for keeping his heart beating gone was what relieved Rebecca as she bought a decent meal for her and Nick. She shuddered to think if this happened in New York.  
  


Even then, money wasn't her priority. She would rather lose money than life.  
  


When she returned, she wasn't surprised to see Larry still asleep. Nick was sitting on the chair beside the bed, eyes constantly flickering from his phone screen to Larry every other thirty seconds. He wore bags under his eyes, yawning as he stretched. Rebecca wore a worried look at him, as she placed the orange juice bottle and sandwich packet on the bedside table. She then pulled another chair and began taking her own sandwich out but never brought to open it.  
  


She hoped Nick would stop and actually eat, though, after two minutes of biting into a mediocre BLT, the sandwich was left untouched. His eyes were still trained on his phone until he saw her staring back.  
  


She said softly back, encouraging him. "You've got to eat Nick." She nudged her chin to his food.  
  


Nick lowered his hand and then eyed her meal. She hadn't opened it yet. He replied, "You too, Becca. I..."  
  


She realised how hypocritical she was. And she took a shallow breath in. Nick had stared at his dad. He wanted to see his dad awake, but he didn't want to wake Larry up just to talk to him. "I know," Rebecca added, sending Nick almost looking away - anywhere other than herself and Larry.  
  


He wore an expression of guilt when he spoke, "It was my fault. I...I should have warned him."  
  


A surge of emotion almost sent her flying out of her chair and hugging Nick tightly. Rebecca refrained herself and leaned over, placing a hand over his. Why did he blame himself for what happened? Nothing could have been done.  
  


"None of it was our fault, okay?" She said, meaning to stress every word. "Your dad wanted to catch him. He was only doing it to save the exhibits."  
  


A tear fell his cheek and he wiped it with the hand she had just held. He placed his phone on the bedside table before adjusting his hoodie.  
  


"...Sometimes I don't know if it's my fault that he in this," Nick whispered, staring down at Larry once more.  
  


"What do you mean?" She asked.  
  


Nick explained, "If I didn't suggest him to come back to the museum, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe we could have been a normal family, you know. You and Dad would have already been married years ago if this didn't go on."  
  


Her heart broke once she heard those words leave his mouth. She curled her fingers, biting her lip to stop herself from feeling her eyes wet.  
  


She had to be brave for him. Nick was just a boy, who had almost lost his dad. Erica wasn't here to be the mom he needed. So here she was instead, someone who wasn't ready at all to become a mother figure and a wife.   
  


Rebecca wondered how Rowen and Larry could do it: to be responsible for a child. To someone, they have born from love. From what she's heard (and barely anything from Rowen until a recent couple of years), they weren't ready to become parents. Their children had grown up with a complicated relationship despite them loving each other.   
  


So why was she stressing so much to care for a teenager? It should be easy. Nick was practically an adult, with a life of his own and his own ability to reason and to talk back. Here she was: stuck and unsure what to say. What if she says something wrong? What if she lost Nick's trust?   
  


' _But it's better to say something than to say nothing,_ ' She thought. Nick was at the point in his life that the world was coming to hit him with a bat and show that life wasn't a simple linear progression. He needed confidence and he needed assurance that he shouldn't regret the actions that have brought them here.  
  


"Nick. You're upset, I know." She answered, the courage slowly gained from her patience. Nick was brought to her attention, staring at her with the blue eyes she saw in Larry's.   
  


He was much like his father, but he was entirely his own person.  
  


"But you have to understand," She continued, holding her hand firmly on his once more. "Your dad loves the museum. He loves every person and exhibits there. That's why he did it. You wouldn't be you now without them either. Don't regret anything that you've done. Regret just leads to pain, and you shouldn't regret the happiness you and your dad gained these years."  
  


Nick stayed quiet, seeping in what she said.  
  


In honesty, she was impressed at what she even said. She meant every word, though.   
  


As she let go of his hand, she let him ponder on what she spoke - opening the sandwich and beginning to eat. She twitched her lips, smiling inwardly as she took her own meal and began to eat quietly.  
  


"I imagine I've interrupted something."  
  


Her head flicked around, and she was relieved to see another familiar face. Rowen appeared much like herself - exhausted. She wore a trucker jacket, blouse and jeans, perfect for the temperate weather outside. Unlike the usual heels she wore, she had worn some canvas shoes that looked too new and uncomfortable to wear. The immortal woman was not someone who wore casual to a sense modern people meant as casual. Her casual was still classy and sophisticated.  
  


So it meant something must have triggered Rowen Bates to wear _Vans_ out of nowhere. But Rebecca didn't mention it, only eyeing the shoes before getting a raised eyebrow back at her.  
  


She wasn't going to pry.  
  


"Not at all." Rebecca shook her head before asking: "How're the exhibits?" She gestured for the spare chair which she sat before, perching now on Larry's bed whilst he slept soundly.  
  


Rowen thanked her, sitting down with a relieving sigh. "I didn't stay for too long. I needed to contact the board to say that the Tablet's returned. And also with the tabloids and such." She rubbed her temples with her hand. "Police are on it as well and the papers are demanding a message from me."  
  


"Shit. That's a lot." Rebecca raised her eyebrows, before asking in confusion. "Why are you here then?"  
  


"Because you're more important right now." Rowen smiled, glancing at Larry and Nick. She then turned to Rebecca and added, "Well, obviously the exhibits are important, but I can trust the exhibits in protecting the damn thing. I...I can't trust the hospital in keeping Larry safe."  
  


Rebecca gulped, turning back to look over at the father and son. She wanted to share to Rowen what happened the past few hours. She wanted to tell her how much this was giving her and Nick a toll of their heart.  
  


Luck came to her when Nick excused him to go to the toilet, leaving with the click of the door. When she was sure he was gone, Rebecca exhaled raggedly.  
  


"I...I don't know what to do, Rowen. And with Nicky." She confessed, telling Rowen the truth. "He blames himself for letting Larry go back to the museum after the Smithsonian."  
  


Rowen gazed at her in confusion, furrowing her eyebrow as she replied. "But it's not his fault. Surely he knows that."  
  


"That's what I said," Rebecca replied, sighing in exasperation. Her food could wait. "But, he's eighteen years old and he just witnessed his dad almost die."   
  


She saw Rowen's eyes almost flash, almost reminiscing something similar. Had she lost someone as well? Rowen hardly spoke of her daughter, and almost assumed she was alive. Even Larry or the exhibits didn't know about her all apart from Ahkmenrah.  
  


But then again, she was over two hundred years old - she would have lost many that were dear to her, which made it even worse to feel sad about herself. Rebecca realised another thing as well. Would Rowen see them gone as well?  
  


"I...no one should be able to see things. Not like this." Rebecca finished, putting away the horrible thought.  
  


"No. No one should." Rowen adjusted her spot and cleared her throat. "But I know that right now, we focus on keeping Larry safe for the time being. I'm just surprised he got through."  
  


The tone of her voice sent Rebecca straightening her back "Really?" Rebecca said.  
  


"Getting shot in the worse place possible should have killed him." Her friend huffed and then gestured to Larry. "But miracles happen. The Daleys seem to have it."  
  


Rebecca saw the smile smirk form on Rowen's lips and she followed suit with her own smile as she looked down. She forgot how much her friend knew about the Daleys, having known Larry's grandfather and being best friends throughout their life. She wondered if Rowen saw him as a friend or a kid? Did they ever meet when Larry was a kid?  
  


Her own thoughts had her almost missing the said woman stand up and walk over to the door.   
  


Rebecca turned and questioned her, "Where are you going then?"  
  


"I need to take care of someone first," Rowen answered, her serious facade returning.  
  


"His wife." Rebecca realised and slowly spoke out the name. "Leslie right? Did she know?"  
  


She had seen the red-haired woman briefly. At the bridge. She was about to grab the gun and aim it at her hadn't Rowen pulled her back and the cops arrived. That had sent her heart dropping, coldness shattering through. She thought she was going to shoot her.  
  


But hearing her scream. It was hearing a thousand mirrors shatter.  
  


Even though her husband shot Larry: Larry was alive and breathing and Trench wasn't. She had just lost her husband, shot by an unknown bullet. It wasn't Larry. Larry could not aim at all and hardly practised using a gun.   
  


But Leslie Carter didn't know that. She didn't even know who had shot her husband.  
  


All that anger, however: had to go somewhere. And that seemed to be at Larry, her, Nick and Rowen. Especially at Larry.  
  


"No. But it's best to keep away from her for a while. For your sake, I mean." Rowen paused, before adding. "I think she's here."  
  


"Where?" Rebecca asked, more aware of what she had been discussing.  
  


"Morgue."   
  


"Okay, maybe I shouldn't have asked." She shuddered. It would seem all pleasing looks at the sandwich in her hand had immediately dissipated.  
  


Rowen wryly replied, ignoring her soured expression. "Hopefully she's still here. I saw her come in this morning and hoped I'd catch her up."  
  


"Okay. Call me when you're leaving." Rebecca assured her. "I think we'll stay here tonight and we'll come back to yours in the morning."  
  


With a nod of agreement, Rowen bid her farewell to go after her friend. At the same time, Nick had returned, finally realising how starved he was and eating his food in five minutes.  


As for her, her sandwich was left out - making Nick give her an odd look.   
  


He asked, "Are you not finishing it?"  
  


"No, you can have it." She shook her head and passed the sandwich to him to which he gladly took, thinking again where Rowen had gone to find Leslie. Rebecca gave a grim look and spoke, "I just don't feel hungry anymore."


	49. The Widow and The Lost Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie Carter loss the part of her life, stolen by secrecy and distrust until someone visits and makes her choose to follow the woman that has led to Garret's death. Should she trust Rowen Bates or should she go on her own?
> 
> As for Ahkmenrah, still shaken from the large weight on his shoulders, he struggles to accept his responsibilities and role as the Guardian of the Tablet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back. But also: Merry Christmas! I thought to give you guys a little present from me and for the patience of getting this chapter out after over a week. I might not be able to get a chapter out until the new year depending how busy I am but we will continue on in 2021.
> 
> So I guess it's also my time to say I hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a Happy New Year! Stay safe and be happy. Rowena, Ahk, Larry and the crew will be back next year!
> 
> Love you all! <3

**Leslie VIII  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

He said he was only going to work, meet up with some colleagues. He told her he would be back in the evening to whisk her away for dinner by the Thames, an evening walk by the river before heading back to the hotel.  
  


Instead, she spent the morning shopping before spotting a television screen showing BBC News live in London. A bird's eye view of the Westminster Bridge and people running away as gunshots rumbled out. People had crowded around to watch before she found herself pulled to stare at the screen.  
  


People screaming in the shaking camera view. It was a live video from a phone, showing one side of the bridge. The person had sent a video to the news company before an overall live broadcast entered the scene.  
  


However, it didn't take long to see the familiar face flash over her eyes.  
  


Leslie Carter's heart had stopped beating.  
  


Then the thrumming began. She dumped all of her bags before running up to hail a cab, asking the driver to take her somewhere close to Westminster. When she got there, it felt like walking into a nightmare. She felt her feet dragging the rest of her body until she couldn't hold herself up anymore and collapsed in front of his body.  
  


Her husband was dead. Those dark brown eyes that she always woke up to; she would never be able to see them by her side again. She would never get to watch them peer over his book in the library or stare at her as she walked into the room. She would never be able to admire how they lit up every time she complimented him, or how they would bring so much happiness.  
  


Now it almost seemed these past years have left her wondering if they were all real.  
  


Three days ago, she had been standing in front of a pane of glass looking at herself. Yesterday, she had been standing in front of a pane of glass looking at an operation room.  
  


Today, she was here in the morgue.  
  


Leslie had lost all feeling of her mind and body since they took his body on the ambulance. Her jacket and clothes were stained with blood as they took her to the police. They asked her questions with endless repetition to which she could almost recite the same response over and over again. Journalists filing to find her walking into the hospital to just get a glimpse of her face. A simple American woman who was just a doctor. But one title stuck out to them all.  
  


_The Terrorist's Wife.  
  
_

A sickening feeling bleched when she first heard that name, willing to throw up right then and there on the pavement when a photographer flashed at her. She thanked the police for at least being decent human beings despite all of the interrogating, shooing away the pesky ants until there was nothing left but her. It took three days for the press to stop pestering her, and she was left having to leave her hotel with some security of disguise. Luckily nobody had discovered where she was staying, and those that eyed her didn't bat an eye.  
  


But now: they knew everything about her now. The world and the web. How Garret Trench, a graduate historian stolen a priceless artefact from the British Museum and proceeded to end his life with killing as much as possible. How Leslie Trench didn't know of her husband's scheming and wasn't sure of the motive. How her friend's friend was caught in the crossfire during the run-in at the bridge.  
  


The question was why? Why did he do it? Why did he do something so ridiculously reckless? She knew Garret was sensible and smart - obviously the main things she loved him for. He aimed for the better for them and was always proud of her for being a doctor and all.  
  


Was it money? Was he paranoid that he wasn't getting the income they needed? Leslie shook her head and slapped herself mentally. They had a conversation about money and they both were well off.  
  


The next reason would have to be that someone threatened him to do it. Someone from New York perhaps? Or maybe someone that came from S.H.A. There were too many open possibilities that could have happened that there was no indication of where to start it all. She wasn't someone that ran towards the head into danger let alone choosing a path to get revenge.  
  


No: that wasn't her. Even if her anger was aimed at the people that were left with her husband on the bridge.  
  


Especially the man that was bleeding beside him. Who had the artefact and the gun by his side, with blood in his hands.  
  


Larry Daley had shot him, and no matter how much people told her he was innocent - Leslie saw the guilt laid across them all. It was his fault for being there, and for getting out alive was the universe's plan to laugh back at her.  
  


That a man was spared, but not hers.  
  


Leslie exhaled, unfolding her arms out and took out her phone from her pocket. She had Kai and Hailey call her multiple times, often ending the conversation in tears before the next one would come. She felt neither comforted nor assured no matter how her friends and co-workers soothed her with their voices.   
  


But finding a miscall from Rowen made her look away is disgust before tucking in the phone and bury it to the bottom. She wasn't going to call her and she wasn't going to talk to Rowen after what occurred.  
  


It was then in the corner of her eye down the corridor, she saw a shade of ginger hair and the silhouette of a familiar black trench coat - something that wasn't needed at this season. However, Leslie knew that exact item of clothing from anywhere.  
  


Facing her, her chest tightened at the seeing that face she hadn't seen in several months.   
  


"...Mom?" Her voice trembled before stumbling into the woman's arms with sobs.  
  


Leslie cried over Irene Carter's shoulder, grasping her body like she was holding onto a tree trunk. With eyes shut, she let go of the pain that had nestled in her body for days - only to let the one person she could believe in now to have it.  
  


Her mother gently rubbed her back with her hand in a circular motion, humming a gentle tune. "Oh, darling. My darling rose. I'm so sorry."  
  


More tears came down until she could control them on her own as she pulled away and wiped them roughly with the palm of her hand. With lips wobbling, she then said confusedly: "Mom...what are you doing here." Leslie continued. "You said...You said you were away for work and-"  
  


Her mother stopped her, grasping her daughter's hand into hers and sadly spoke, "I know you needed someone here."  
  


"I...I..." She tried to form the words, but it grew harder as her breaths grew shallower. How could she say it? After all that happened?   
  


"I'm so sorry," Irene whispered to her. "I'm sorry I never knew."  
  


Her mother should be disgusted by her. Ashamed that Leslie had found someone that was a lie all this time. Leslie's father had called her multiple times, telling her that he would try to support her cause through the American side. It was a way which her father tried to care for her at such a situation. But he didn't understand that right now: all his child needed was his comfort.  
  


But having her mother stand here in front of her made the guilt seep through, flooding her insides that she could feel herself vomit them all out.  
  


"Don't," Leslie spoke, gulping back before continuing. "It was me. I...I didn't know."  
  


Widening her eyes, Irene got closer and placed her hands onto Leslie's shoulders. She said, "Don't be blaming yourself for this."   
  


"But-" Leslie hiccupped, careless of the tears still spilling down her cheeks. She wept, "This is. I should have told him. I should have known where he was!"  
  


Irene Carter just gave her a sad smile, wiping her tears off her cheek before letting her step back and pass her a tissue. As she wiped her nose, Leslie glance forward to her and waited for her to respond, unsure what her mother would answer back.  
  


An eccentric person to most, but to Leslie: she was the enigma that still kept in the bay in times like this. Her mother's work has always been quiet, never specified and certainly not spoken at the dinner table in evenings. She learnt to keep quiet about it, and often wondered if Irene Carter was some double O agent or was from the CIA.  
  


But Leslie was taught to stay out things. To keep back and stay alert despite knowing to keep far from situations. Though how can she when all of this happened?  
  


And from the glint of concern, Leslie could tell one thing. Irene Carter knew something.  
  


"I wish you knew more. I wish...I wish I could tell you." Her mother told her quietly, every second looking at either corridor. "But this was a risk. Coming to you now."  
  


Leslie's eyebrow's furrowed. She didn't understand what her mother meant, but with how hesitant she spoke she couldn't deny the guilt and the hidden meanings between the lines meant something even more.  
  


"What? What do you mean?" She pried, looking to the same direction as her mother but found no one walking pass by. "Why? What's wrong? Mom?"  
  


Irene stepped closer, eyes that begged for Leslie. She whispered, "I want you to follow Rowen, do you hear me?"  
  


With her mind pausing, Leslie backtracked and gaped back. "What? Why?" A surge of anger, making her hiss in defiance. "Don't you have an idea what her friend did!? He...he shot-"  
  


However, she couldn't finish the words as each syllable made her lose breath. This didn't make any sense at all. Why? Why would her mother tell her that? Even better yet: what did her mother and Rowen know and she didn't?

"No. He didn't kill him. Someone else did." Irene reasoned with her, though she could tell they both already knew of this. "The bullet, it wasn't the same gun that was in the scene wasn't it?"

"But I know that. Scotland Yard told me this." Leslie halted, and raised a brow. "Wait how do you know? Mom...what is it."  
  


"...You're too young. You weren't supposed to know." She shook her head.  
  


She asked back, "Know what? If this is about your work-"  
  


"I'm sorry, darling. But I'm only here to see you for a short time." Irene shushed her, implying to quieten her tone. "I'm scared that I won't be able to see you again."  
  


"What do you mean?" Leslie didn't hesitate, taking her mom's hand and speaking, "Mom, I'm coming home with you!"  
  


But her mother shook her head, a pit falling into Leslie's stomach the moment she realised the temporary appearance of her mother.  
  


"Trust her, Leslie." She stared right to me, almost pleading to her. Leslie didn't even notice until she felt two things slip into her hand.  
  


Leslie glanced down to find two things.   
  


It was a dog tag on a silver chain, with a flower logo engraved on one side.  
  


The other was the photo that had been in her house. The picture with the three historians.  
  


Leslie was confused. Why did she hand her these things? Why would she need it?  
  


And then she remembered what the number on the photo meant. "Why?" She questioned, beginning to worry every moment her mother got closer and lowered her voice.  
  


She didn't understand the dog tag, but the number was vital since she could understand as a little girl. The number was for emergencies and could only be called once. If she needed this now, it meant something was terribly wrong.  
  


"Please do it for me. I don't have much time." Her mom murmured to her, "I've got to go, my rose. My baby rose."  
  


That nickname melted her heart, reminded by those previous times as she stood at the front door as her mother got into the car and waved back at her. How her dad would stand behind her, with those sad eyes despite the smile that rested on his lips. How the two clung to each other for another second before her mother had to leave.  
  


It was the same thing happening again.  
  


Leslie pleaded in a small voice. "Mom. Please don't go. Not now-"  
  


Irene's voice echoed in her ear. "I will come back to you. I promise you."  
  


She heard of these words many times and Leslie felt that there was some hint of insecurity by the tone of her voice. Her mother always said this whenever she left for work, but this time - it felt too genuine. That Irene Carter was promising herself.  
  


Leslie wondered why her mother did this. To hide and to give her promises that have kept Leslie and her father in the dark all this time. They have been strong, and even more so for her mother.   
  


However: there would come a time that those promises would break.  
  


She shook her head from those thoughts, wanting to forget and to remember to think of the brighter side. Her mother was strong and had always been there. She was going to see her mother again, and she would try her best to stay safe. For her and for her father.  
  


"Please. Be safe." Leslie said quietly, trying to cling onto her as much as she could.  
  


"I love you, my darling. Trust her." Those were her last words to her before giving her one last peck on her forehead and walking away out of the double doors.   
  


Leslie was left on her own, standing there with wide eyes - feeling like a child again and being left once more by the mother she still didn't seem to know more of after this.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

Only a couple of hours between her mother and visiting hours almost ending was when another visitor arrived at the morgue. Though, it was someone she least wanted to see after this time.  
  


Rowen Bates stopped several feet away staring at her like she was cautious to approach some animal. She had that same look, the one which Irene Carter wore when she looked at her in sadness and sorrow. Though with her, it only made it worse. She didn't the pity and the sorry stares and definitely not from her.  
  


"Leslie-"  
  


She didn't even glance at her before she snapped back, "Fuck off. I don't want to talk to you." When she checked the time on her phone, Leslie took that moment to grab her bag and begin walking away from her.  
  


As her heels clicked against the floor, she was about to pass the petite woman until a voice demanded her.  
  


"Leslie Carter, stop," Rowen said with a tone which sent Leslie spinning around in fury.  
  


She scowled back, hissing back. "You're not my mother, okay?"  
  


The woman didn't snap almost, calmly inhaling back before answering: "I am not, but considering your mental state I'm having to substitute."  
  


"Why? Why did he do it?"  
  


"I don't know," Rowen answered, the tone seemed too genuine that she wasn't sure if it was true or not.  
  


"This isn't right," Leslie said between her teeth, preventing another tear from leaping out. It took her a few breaths before questioning, "Why would he steal that thing? That block of golden trash-"  
  


Rowen sighed, rubbing her head. "Look. There are things you do not understand-"  
  


"Then tell me." She demanded.  
  


"Not here. I...I only came here because I needed to talk to Rebecca." Rowen exhaled, flicking her eyes slightly down the hall before turning back to her. "But I considered going down to the morgue. Knowing how you'd be here."  
  


"Yes. And now I'm going back to the hotel. So if you'll excuse me." She tried to step away but only was abrupted by Rowen falling into step with her as they sauntered down the hallway.  
  


"I'll give you a lift."  
  


"No."  
  


As exasperated sigh left Rowen's lips as the two stopped.   
  


Leslie glared back, only to look away and fiddle with the chain and dog tag that was hidden under the collar of her shirt.  
  


"This is for your safety, Leslie Carter. If someone else shot him, who knows who's after you?" She argued, ending with a thin-lipped Leslie as she pondered on the question.  
  


In the end, Leslie accepted. She battled her heart and mind, trying to assess whether it was a good choice after all. But the same words kept repeating in her head from her mom. If her mother told her she had to trust her, why would Rowen not know of it?  
  


She knew she should tell Rowen who she met before her today, and tell her why she was only coming with her reluctantly. Though no matter how Leslie couldn't form the right words. How could she explain the chain and the photograph hidden in her bag and around her neck when even she didn't know what they were. Why the photo of Emilia Darcy, Howard Carter and Robert Daley was vital.  
  


Even if she did, Leslie knew what Rowen would think of her. Because she was the wife of the man that killed her friend - and if Rowen chose between her and Larry Daley: she would choose the nightguard.  
  


They drove through London in silence, winding through the streets as Leslie idly sat back rigidly and still nerved by every glance Rowen took.  
  


She shouldn't be this hostile, but she had too now.   
  


The car slowed down and the moment she glanced out of the window towards the unfamiliar street, Leslie's heart grew cold.  
  


She spoke, "This isn't my hotel." Her head flashed over to the front seat, her fingers clenching onto the door handle.  
  


Rowen eyed her, a blank look stretched over her though her eyes were swirling with conflict that Leslie felt judged to inspect.   
  


"No. This is my house. You're staying with me until something comes up." She explained.  
  


Her anger returned, the realisation clicking into place. Why did she take her here?  
  


"How could I trust you? Any of you?" Leslie challenged; her body rigid but inside shaking with fury and fear.  
  


She looked across her shoulder and answered plainly. "You're still alive." Rowen Bates clicked open the car door and added. "That's the only thing I can support my account."  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
**

**Ahkmenrah XIX  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

Two days have passed since they arrived at the British Museum, and Ahkmenrah had not seen Rowen at all.   
  


In a way, he shouldn't worry too much considering what occurred when they first arrived here. His father had decided to plop a large brick of truths on their shoulders after thousands of years of secrecy and he still couldn't wrap his head around it all.   
  


He had brooded and sulked for the next couple of days, staying as far as possible from his parents and following Attila and Dexter like a ghost. He was supposed to act as their babysitter (a term Larry has constantly muttered under his breath whenever he was fed up of them all), though it seemed it was the other way around.  
  


Ahkmenrah gravitated away from the new exhibits the first night Rowen, Larry, Nick and Rebecca didn't return. His parents wondered where the Guardian of Cambridge and Guardian of Brooklyn were and Ahkmenrah answered back with a shrug before seeking his friends. The whole night was wandering the British Museum.  
  


He shouldn't comment on places, but Ahkmenrah wondered why Rowen stayed for this? Not that the British Museum was a squatter settlement in comparison to New York; it was the complete opposite. It was large, but it didn't seem to have the warmth and life New York had. It was cold and ordered, with no statues and glass cabinets that caged majority of the exhibits. They couldn't release them, not when there were nightguards stationed outside or somewhere within the place.   
  


He found the mummy section quickly, seeing new faces from his own country wake up in confusion. They were scared and dazed and he couldn't do anything. Ahkmenrah hated that he couldn't do something.  
  


Like how he couldn't anything to save his family.  
  


' _You're the Guardian now,_ ' His head told him. ' _You're not just king anymore, you're Khonsu's chosen. The one that will protect the Tablet for all eternity..._ ' He gulped the ball stuck down his throat and stared at himself at the large mirror in one of the halls.  
  


He might wear these golden robes and a crown, but he was far from the king his brother was.  
  


"I'm not a king," He said to himself. "I can never be who you were, brother. You're always going to be the one to rule. But...But I can't be the king and the guardian of the Tablet."  
  


He inhaled slowly, forcing all his might to not tear up. But seeing his own eyes, golden-brown and dark under the dim lights.   
  


They used to be different colour many aeons ago. It once matched the colour of the Nile, light blue eyes that complimented the desert sands of the Sinai. Now they were just plain and dark, like little scarabs scuttling in the sand.  
  


_"What do you think about scarab beetles?" Osaze once asked him, Kahmunrah, Khafre and Djedefre. In the palm of his hand, he held a golden scarab figurine, with colourful wings and a large orange jewel at the top.  
  
_

_Khafre had commented in disgust, "Annoying little insects."  
  
_

_"They're only annoying to you because you hate insects," Djedefre pointed out, earning a snort from Kahmunrah.  
  
_

_Kahmunrah commented back to Osaze question, "They're a symbol, aren't they?"  
  
_

_Their Mena neswt hummed to agree. "Yes. And what do they represent?"  
  
_

_"Protection?" Ahkmenrah piped, earning a roll of eyes from Khafre.  
  
_

_Osaze nodded, "Yes, and?"  
  
_

_"Uh...rebirth?" He continued, trying his best to remember what he read about the animal symbols the other night. "Oh! And immortality and resurrection."  
  
_

_"Correct," Their Mena neswt answered before putting down the scarab figurine. "The Scarab is a very important insect of our culture. The life of a scarab beetle revolves around the dung balls that the beetle consumes. How they laid their eggs in and fed their young. All represent a cycle of birth, death and rebirth. A new beginning."  
  
_

_Kahmunrah asked, "But why a scarab? There are so many other insects to choose from."  
  
_

_"No other insect carries a dung ball around their entire life," Osaze explained. "They carry it until their death and the birth of their young. Like how Ra rolls the sun around, bringing warmth and light on the world every day. How the sun rises and how the sun sets, it will bring another day. A cycle."  
  
_

_Djedefre questioned next, "But why make them so small? The gods could have made these creatures much larger."  
  
_

_"They're already large enough then it is!" Khafre shivered. "I don't want a huge scarab crawling in my bed!"  
  
_

_Kahmunrah smirked at Khafre whilst Ahkmenrah giggled, "Are you scared of bed bugs, Khafre?"  
  
_

_"No!" He squeaked, before folding his arms in a huff. "I...they're just puny and tiny. They're nothing. So why something so puny and tiny could be worth to be put in an amulet?"  
  
_

_Osaze asked them all, "Then ask yourself." He paused. "Why do we choose to symbolize something so small?"  
  
_

_None of the children spoke.  
  
_

_Until Ahkmenrah slowly spoke, "Protection."  
  
_

_All eyes went to him.  
  
_

_"You said a scarab carries this dung ball all of its life, like Ra and the Sun." He began. "That dung ball is the scarab's life source. It's its purpose; it's why it chooses to live and not to waste away and die."  
  
_

_The Mena neswt stared at him.  
  
_

_Ahkmenrah continued, "Like how Father is king. The kingdom is like a dung ball, and when he dies, Kahmun would be king and he'll be taking care of the dung ball, I guess."  
  
_

_"A good analogy," Osaze simply said, before blinking away and continuing. He could feel Khafre's eyes boring into his back after what he said, but he ignored it. "Even how small it is, or just being one, it will always have a big effect to which it protects. Like the King and Kemet."  
  
_

_Djedefre added, "Like the Guardians and the Artefacts."  
  
_

_"Exactly," Osaze confirmed.  
  
_

_Kahmunrah scoffed, "You actually believe in that?" He said, "It's just a story, a myth!"  
  
_

_"All stories can be derived from the truth, my prince." Their Mena neswt sternly put, silencing the others who whispered about. "A tale is twisted by time, changed by who the teller is and the listener."  
  
_

_"So why the scarab?" Khafre asked. "Why are you teaching us about insects?"  
  
_

_Osaze looked at the young boy and answered clearly. "Because plain and small and boring they are, each life in this world is worth more to the bigger things. As all four of you, you will all be important to Kemet someday. If it is tomorrow or ten years from now."  
  
_

He tightened the grip of his clothes with his fist, refraining to punch the glass at himself.  
  


Osaze was wrong. He may be important, but it didn't mean he could do a good job in carrying the job he was thrust into. Ahkmenrah wanted to scream again, to let his anger out once more but none left his body. He was tired. Tired of it all. Tired of being tossed about.  
  


He left that exhibit with an image stuck in his head. An image of a man that was lost. A scarab who had two dung balls instead of one. One that was supposed to his - and the other for his brother.  
  


When he woke up again in his sarcophagus, he went to check the (his) Tablet to find it still sitting on the wall before eager to find a small figure dressed in should be a skirt and heels. Or perhaps trousers and leather shoes. Even then, he knew she would be wearing a cardigan or a thick coat - a piece of clothing that reminded those who knew her that she was a woman out of time.  
  


Instead, he found Sacagawea watching a group of acrobats in the main hall. She was sat on a bench, clapping after they've finished and disappeared to go and dance elsewhere. With the sound of his clothes ruffling, she spotted him and smiled kindly at him.  
  


Ahkmenrah formed a practised smile back, greeting her a good evening. He then asked back, "Have you seen Rowen anywhere? Or Larry or Rebecca? Nicky?"  
  


The Native American woman shook her head before she pondered aloud, "I saw someone else, but that was it."  
  


"Oh." His hope slightly crumpled after hearing the outcome. Ahkmenrah then added, "Perhaps they had a long day? At least there aren't any pesky guards tonight."  
  


They both shared a smirk, knowing how eventful it had been when they heard a shriek from one of the staff areas of the museum. They had assumed it was their friends, but it turned out to be Tilly - the young nightguard which Rowen introduced.  
  


She had been both terrified and terrifying to the exhibits hadn't Sacagawea and Teddy sat her down (gave her a cup of tea as well) and explained it all about the (his) Tablet and its magic. Ahkmenrah didn't meet her in person, though once Rowen was back he would consider showing another mortal being the artefact.  
  


If only they were here. It would have made Tilly's transition much easier. But here they were, unsure where the hell they were and if they were alright. Did something happen to them? Did Rowen's enemies found them?  
  


Do they know the Tablet was here?  
  


Luckily, Sacagawea noticed him falling deeper into his mind and place a hand over his arm. He looked up and saw her softened look. "Do not think too much of it, Ahk." She assured him. "Come on, let's go find the others." She reached out her hand and waited for him to take it.  
  


Hesitating slightly, he finally took her hand carefully and she tugged him closer, linking their arms together as Sacagawea led them out of the main hall and down the large hallways. They passed some several marble statues walking about and the occasional chimaera. Ahkmenrah didn't know where they were going, only hoping it was somewhere that wasn't near his parents.  
  


And speaking of them, she had cut the silence with the subject.  
  


"So are you and your parents talking?" Sacagawea inquired.  
  


Ahkmenrah sarcastically muttered back, "If you consider 'talking' as glaring at them in loathe - then yes."  
  


Sacagawea had glanced to him, with a frown on her lips. It caused his chest to tighten, annoyance growing in him. He wasn't a child; he didn't need anyone to coddle him and tell him to go and apologise.  
  


But perhaps he was making quick assumptions once he stared at her eyes. They were filled with worry and assurance - trying her best to understand him.  
  


"...Ahk." Her eyes softened, a small smile forming on her face as she spoke. "Remember what we always said. We're here to talk to once you think it's the right time."  
  


Ahkmenrah was a bit surprised and yet he shouldn't be. He knew what his friend was like, and one thing she was far from was judging those too quickly. Sacagawea knew too easily how he felt and tried to ease him.  
  


Before the guilt could grow, he asked her back. "And when do you think it's the right time?"  
  


Her hand patted his own, unwrapping her arm off his. "...We've got the lifetime to do it. So take your time." Sacagawea answered.  
  


Ahkmenrah let out a sad smile, gazing down towards the floor to think. He forgot sometimes that they were just exhibits. They would continue to live on whilst the world moved on until they weren't important to the world to see.   
  


A lifetime with his friends. At least there was some light in these outcomes.  
  


They continued forward, discovering themselves in a large chamber. With stone pillars and mosaic glass panes, it was entering a place close to the buildings of Cambridge. Only this time, there were weapons on the walls, glass cabinets of metal suits (armour he believed) and other trinkets.  
  


Striding towards them was the president with another man walking beside him. He wore all metal, with a large sword sheathed on his belt. All silver and shining, he didn't even question how his shoes were all-metal as they made a racketing sound whilst he walked. His chin was up high, an air of arrogance and confidence as he whipped his blonde hair off his face and showed blue eyes looking at him.  
  


The man was attractive at all accounts, though hardly didn't affect Ahkmenrah. He was a bit busy glancing away; he didn't want to interact with anyone new tonight. Not when he was now worried about Rowen and Larry.  
  


"Teddy, who have you found?" Sacagawea asked after greeting her lover with a small peck on the cheek.  
  


He introduced himself as a knight, like a soldier with a title from his understanding. He pressed a small kiss on Sacagawea's hand before speaking.  
  


"My Lady, I am Sir Lancelot of Camelot." The blonde night greeted, before stepping away.  
  


It was Ahkmenrah's turn to stare back at him with a blank look. Pretty was the term he should put as he bowed his head politely.  
  


"You can call me Sacagawea." His friend spoke. But when she noticed he wouldn't speak, Sacagawea added: "And...this is Ahkmenrah."  
  


Lancelot grinned. "A pleasure to make your acquaintances." He continued, "I have heard that we now dwell in these large halls. What you may call a museum?"  
  


Ahkmenrah gave Sacagawea a quick glance and she slowly nodded back. He had forgotten what the new exhibits usually experience when they first wake up. Their first night tended to bring them to confusion and delusion, adjusting to their souls and their memories of the people which they once were before accepting what they were. He never got to partake in this, of course, but he once saw it when the new Greek and Mediterranean Exhibit came. The muses still believed they were in Greece thousands of years ago and took a while to accept their wax life.  
  


So seeing how chipper and flamboyant Lancelot was, it was normal to watch the knight be himself and be wary of the surroundings.  
  


"It is indeed." Teddy fell by Sacagawea's side, now linking arms with her. "Now, how about we go on a stroll to the other parts of the museum? We have not explored the entirety of the area and we're unsure how long we'll be here."  
  


Ahkmenrah stood by, watching Lancelot ponder for a bit before humming in agreement. He then strutted to the door of the exhibition.  
  


"I will guard you." Lancelot turned and faced them, lowering his voice. "You might never know. There could be foul creatures lingering around this place." And the knight marched ahead, unnoticed that the three looked at each other in amusement.  
  


Sacagawea hid back a chuckle whilst Teddy grinned. Hiding his own smile by glancing down, he took a peek at his friends and couldn't help but show his own smirk.   
  


He quietly asked them, "So, who shall be the one to...how does Larry put it: 'break it to him'?" Ahkmenrah paused. "Definitely not me."  
  


"We'll choose once he decides there aren't any foul creatures in the museum," Sacagawea replied earning a hidden snort from Ahkmenrah.  
  


The president loudly whispered, "I think the only foul creatures here would be the terrible furniture. There aren't any comfortable benches anywhere!"  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

"Ahk. Teddy and I are heading back to the crate. Will you be alright up here?" Sacagawea asked him as they arrived back at their exhibit.  
  


They had spent the whole night exploring once more with Lancelot joining their group. Attila was hesitant in seeing a new face whilst Dexter was much more eager to steal the shiny armour he wore. After they all met together, they discovered the hall of the Far East, which included Japanese, Korean and Chinese artefacts and rather (and he meant rather) large snake. Some interesting statues and painting which intrigued them all.  
  


Ahkmenrah could only wish the other four were here with them. Rebecca and Rowen usually knew what was around them with the addition of Larry piping in sometimes. Nick loved making commentary of their nights.  
  


Even thinking about them made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to go out there in the city and find them, to see if they were alright. But when he looked over at Teddy, he could tell that the president understood what he felt. What they all felt. They knew something was wrong, but they couldn't do anything without endangering the Tablet at an unknown place. Their priority was keeping his Tablet safe even if they had to wait.  
  


"Yes. I'll be fine." He waved her off, before piping back with a question. "Do you know what happened to Larry and Rowena? They did say they'll return."  
  


The two glanced at each other, both wearing blank looks before shaking their heads.  
  


"I'm not sure," She sadly responded, deflating the mood. Sacagawea perked up and added, "But hopefully, they will be here this following evening."  
  


He pursed his lips and spoke, "Perhaps I'm only being paranoid. I apologise, Sac and Teddy."  
  


"Don't be sorry, my friend," Sacagawea answered and looked over to Teddy before going back to him. "Well, at least there's some joy tonight. Meeting Lancelot was interesting."  
  


"And a handful." Ahkmenrah rolled his eyes.  
  


Teddy said with an amused expression. "Yes. A rather...colourful character. I did enjoy the tales of the Knights of the Round Table myself, perhaps Lancelot will tell us his tales."  
  


"You should go." He told her and smiled softly, "I'll be fine, Sac. I'll see you later."  
  


It took another few seconds before the Native American felt assured. "Alright." Sacagawea nodded and waved. "Well, stay safe. Good morning, Ahk."  
  


Once the couple left, he slumped his shoulders and looked over to his sarcophagus. One thing he loathed was putting his wrappings back on by himself. Rowen helped him with this ordeal, being the only person he trusted of them all. When she wasn't in, it was Larry or Rebecca but sometimes he was left to do it. It was vital to put them on, as it kept his body intact during the day when he was...dead. One time he took too long wrapping his bandages and didn't have time to wrap his hand properly.   
  


When he woke up, let's just say he might as well chop his hand off the whole because it was so painful and disfigured that he couldn't even move it. Rowen had scolded him for it for about a week and made him wrap himself up for another week until he got faster.  
  


Hence why he wasn't worriedly hurrying, tying the last bandage in his right hand before staring down at his bed. Another day which he could only Rowen would come back and take him and his friends out of here. Ahkmenrah slipped inside and push the lid before closing it shut fully.  
  


Ahkmenrah tried to sleep by closing his eyes and counting to ten in various languages. Once he felt tiredness overcome, he let the last breath out and let sleep consume him.  
  


Though, no matter how he tried to drift off - he felt himself twitch his nose.  
  


_'Well...that was a quick sleep,_ ' Ahkmenrah thought. ' _Must have slept quite deeply. And no dreams too._ ' He tried to assure his mind this, but a larger part didn't seem convinced.  
  


"Um...He-" He called out, unsure if anyone was outside. "Hello? Rowen? Larry? Are you there?"   
  


After several taps on his lid, no one responded.  
  


' _Honestly,_ ' Ahkmenrah rolled his eyes. ' _Where are they? Three nights in a row, surely there's something wrong..._ ' He then trailed off and heard the click of shoes and the muttering of a voice.  
  


A new voice.  
  


He narrowed his eyes and glared up to the lid. And with his strength, he slipped his fingers through the crack in the lid and slowly slid the lid of his sarcophagus out of the way. He had not done this at all for years, always having the lid partially open when evening came. Or perhaps he was used to the privilege for so long that he wasn't used to having to open it on his own.  
  


Either way, anyone awake before him would open it. Usually, Teddy or Tilly (who still kept away from him since day one and he couldn't blame her, Ahkmenrah had come off rather harsh on the young woman and frightened her with his questions about Rowen's whereabouts).  
  


He gritted his teeth, and eventually let out a sigh as he sat up and began unwrapping his bandages. Though when he then turned to his side, he was not expecting someone to be staring at him with jaw let loose.  
  


Standing in the British Museum uniform was a nightguard.  
  


An unfamiliar nightguard.  
  


Ahkmenrah's eyes widened.  
  


A small screeched left the man's mouth before he slapped his mouth shut. The nightguard's body was shaking like he was seeing a ghost-  
  


' _You're the ghost, you idiot!_ ' Ahkmenrah screamed to himself.  
  


The man had gone paler the longer they stared each other before the man yelped as Ahkmenrah moved back a step.  
  


"No, wait!" He said frantically, "Please! Please I need-"  
  


The nightguard stuttered, stumbling backwards. "The..."  
  


Ahkmenrah gestured his hands, but that immediately made the man jump. He pleaded, "No, I must-"   
  


"THE MUMMY'S ALIVE!"   
  


"Wait!"  
  


The nightguard screamed, "THE MUMMY'S ALIVE!"  
  


The nightguard wailed his arms about as he ran, straight out of the hall and further into the museum to a direction Ahkmenrah didn't know. As the scream diminished, he coughed slightly, brushing the dust that fell from the lid and began unravelling the bandages. Hurrying to unwrap, he left his crown and swung his legs out of the coffin - adjusting his skirt before he looked about.  
  


Shining down the window was something blinding. Perhaps it was a spotlight or an incredibly bright lamp up in the ceiling. But then again: why have the lights up during the day-  
  


His mind backtracked.  
  


It wasn't artificial light at all. It was light from the sun. Sunlight. The warm orange tint, refracting into a ray of colours as it hit the glass. And a ray shot through into the room in front of him.  
  


Ahkmenrah approached it cautiously.  
  


He reached his hand out towards the window, shaking with what was a mix of emotions.   
  


Slowly his hand was bathed in light. But nothing happened but a warmth tingling feeling. No dust of a sort.  
  


That was when his heart stopped.  
  


"What? That's not possible..." He breathed, his eyes never leaving his hand. The same hand that was in the sunlight.  
  


It was morning. And he was awake.  
  


Ahkmenrah was awake.  
  


With deep heavy breaths, he stepped into the ray of light and shut his eyes. In over four thousand years and not a second to lose: it was the very first time he had seen sunlight. He had seen it in movies.  
  


This. This was different.  
  


And then the gut feeling rose up to his throat and stopped the moment of happiness and relief.  
  


This was all wrong.  
  


He blinked away the tears, rubbing his face to wake himself up before rushing to adjust his clothes and crown and rushed towards his parents' chamber. He hoped that they would be awake just like him, running pass some mummies beginning to unravel their own bandages in confusion.  
  


Once he arrived back to the exhibit, he found them standing in front of the wall.   
  


Ahkmenrah shouted, "Mother! Father!"  
  


Both their head turned and quickly, Shepseheret rushed to him and placed her hands over his cheeks with the widest eyes - searching for any damage on him.  
  


"Ahkmen! Are you alright?" She asked him, and he carefully pried her hands away before gulping a portion of air into his lungs.  
  


He spoke to them, "Something's gone wrong. And I mean...terribly wrong."  
  


Shepseheret furrowed her eyebrows and answered, "What?"  
  


He stared at her in confusion. Did she believe it was still evening?   
  


However, when he glanced up to Merenkahre, he already knew from the fear of his father's face that he knew. They both knew it.   
  


His eyes went over to the Tablet and found it still glowing. No corrosion or unwanted feeling expelling from the artefact. Perfectly normal. But all of this was far from it.  
  


Ahkmenrah finally spoke those words he had not said in a very long time.   
  


"It's daytime." 


	50. Tea, Dinosaurs and Knights in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after seeing Larry, Rowena wonders her own decisions in bringing danger to those she loves, whilst also entrusted to keep Leslie safe from being killed.
> 
> So the two head to the British Museum, expecting to just simply walk into the building.
> 
> Museums tend to have security before entering. And their new security guard somehow involves a thirty feet extinct animal made of bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year guys and welcome back to the story. Welcome to 2021, but with what's occurring at the moment in the world: it seems to just be 2020 Part 2.
> 
> Anyhow, I left you in a bit of a cliffhanger and this pretty much is the reaction to what has occurred. I decided to split this chapter up, initially adding Larry's view and reacting from the hospital. That will be in the next chapter alongside Ahk's reaction from what happened in the last chapter.
> 
> I'm probably not going to update in another two weeks due to exam season. Thank you all for the patience and hope you all stay safe.

** Rowena XXXVI  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

_Sand scraped her exposed knees as she clambered up to her feet and wobbled. When she gazed upwards, she found herself staring at a battleground. Smoke coming out of the earth and rubble whilst broken shrapnel were buried into the dry earth. The sun was beating down onto the earth, tingling the hairs of her arm as she peered out to try and comprehend everything.  
  
_

_No words could describe the carnage in front of her. There were bodies littered, pools of blood and limbs sticking out of the dry chalky earth. The beauty of the valley soaked in red and brown and metal. The pungent aroma of iron and burning flesh mixed with the chemicals of the smoke made her gag, but no reaction came from her.  
  
_

_What irked Rowena more was the absolute silence. No groan or cry or the shot of guns. She only heard her Oxford shoes scrape the particles of the sand as she walked through the sea of bodies.  
  
_

_She was struck in shock, dread beginning to crawl up her spine as she halted to a stop.  
  
_

_There in front of her laid upon broken layers of rubble rock were the figures she wished to never see.  
  
_

_Teddy Roosevelt’s eyes were open wide, a deadly stare on his expression but with tears still fresh on his face. His rifle bent in two and laid a few yards from him. But what she first saw was the large gash on his legs, his trousers soaked in red. Next to him was Sacagawea. Her own face contorted in peace; eyes closed. As her eyes wandered down, she saw the bullet wound on her chest – exactly where the heart would be.  
  
_

_Just a few metres away was Attila, laid over his side with an arm reaching towards his axe. She could see the pain embedded on his scrunched-up face, relaxed by the constant look ahead. Her heart then plummeted when she spotted the little capuchin curled under the Hun’s arm, trying his best to shield the little animal. She had hoped that he was still alive but didn’t spot Dexter move a muscle.  
  
_

_As her eyes darted across to the other side that was when she saw the two sitting and leaning against a rockface. Jedediah sat upright, head now tilted to the side as he looked ahead with no reaction – cradling Octavius body in his arms. His gun was left by their side as the Roman sword was broken in half. She could tell that the Roman had bled out, his hand over his ribs whilst another looked to have comforted Jedediah. Hands intertwined as if they had died knowing they were together.  
  
_

_And quite far from the rest, out in the open was the familiar body of the night guard. She approached him carefully, kneeling down as her hand reach out.  
  
_

_Outshot his arm, clenching his fingers over her wrists as his eyes flashed open. Excruciating pain was worn over his features, gasping at every moment as he stared up to her.  
  
_

_"You...you could have saved us." Larry choked out before shutting his eyes.  
  
_

_His body slumped under her arm before his own hand became limp. She let go of him, stumbling back with shaking hands.  
  
_

_Rowena stared at him for a moment, the coldness sinking in as fast as a broken ship drowning her mind in horror. Her friend, Larry Daley, just died in her arms.  
  
_

_She wanted to scream. To accuse her of killing her friends. Only, nothing came out of her mouth. Her jaw slacked, clamping a hand to her mouth as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.  
  
_

_They were dead. It couldn’t be possible.  
  
_

_The first instinct she could do was run. Run as far as she could. She wanted to run and run until her lungs would give in – her mouth parched, and lips dried. However, her feet did not shift, feeling the heels of her boots digging further down into the dirt.  
  
_

_There was then a sudden cry, and Rowena glanced up to search for that voice.  
  
_

_As she continued down the path of the valley, she stopped to find two shadows sticking out of the rubble. Golden eyes matching the sun stared at her with glimmering hatred and amusement, sending a trickle of worry down Rowena. She wore the same clothing that they first met in, unscathed or dirty from the desert sand or blood.  
  
_

_However, adorning her formal outfit was a short silver blade, sharp by how it reflected against the light. Was this her doing? Did she do it?  
  
_

_Rowena slowly walked to her, hands clenched as anger erupted through her heart.  
  
_

_Salma Atkins' echoed in the valley, "You forget, Rowena Clarke..."  
  
_

_Tugging up, she yanked the collar of a figure from the ground.  
  
_

_That anger dissipated as fast as she could when she saw who it had been.  
  
_

_Gasping for breath, Rowena watched Salma place a blade over Ahkmenrah's throat. He was trembling under her grasp, trying to clamber up and scramble to pry off Salma's hands. He then stopped, choking out a wheeze of air before his eyes stared back at her.  
  
_

_Eyes that wore fear and betrayal.  
  
_

_"We may be immortal: but they will never be." Salma proclaimed and brought the sword through.  
  
_

_Metal slicing through the neck in one clean swoop.  
  
_

Rowena's eyes flashed open as she flung herself upright.  
  


With deep pants, Rowena slowly adjusted her thoughts and clenched the sheets in her hands. ' _It was just a dream, just a dream..._ ' She repeated in her head. Gods, it wasn't a dream - it was a horror film intensified.  
  


' _Just a nightmare...just a nightmare._ '  
  


Gulping in more air, she rubbed her bare arms, shuddering to more than just the morning chill. As she settled her breaths to some normal pace, her fingers raked through her hair whilst the other hand gravitated towards the device at the side of the bed. The moment she opened the phone, she scrolled aimlessly through various apps. The messages from Rebecca and lack of breaking news soothed her to some extent but nevertheless left her unsatisfied and dirty from what she dreamt of.  
  


It was all she could dream about. The same scenes replaying in her mind like a broken tape recorder, the voices jittering and growing louder until she had to pause and stare at herself in the mirror.  
  


Shutting the tap close, Rowena looked up at herself. How did she come to this? With hollowed cheeks, eyes and dark bags under her eyes. Her fingers trailed over her cheeks, gracing over the freckles. The same ones that were there before. The same skin and the same nose and face.   
  


But never a single wrinkle on her skin.  
  


As she traced her hands over the tresses of her hair, she could feel her own throat constrict, jaw shuddering as she used all her might not to let the emotion out. Her fears were returning to her and reminding herself that her hair would never go grey caused herself to choke out a cry. Lips wavering, her hands tightened over the clumps of her hair before she massaged her cheeks with desperations until she grasped the edge of the sink – squeezing her eyes shut.  
  


Rowena couldn’t look at herself anymore. She dared not to look at the face that she had worn for so long. The more often she looked, all she could see was not Rowen Bates at all – but a ghost that has carried within her for years.  
  


Was the nightmare the reminder of her curse? That she would eventually remain the same as the world moved on. And if danger did come their way, she would therefore be left unrequited to spectate the deaths of those she loved.  
  


Even Ahkmenrah and the Exhibits, who clung to immortality like a piece of string to a golden tablet. And her love for the man that protected the Tablet; their own relationship revolved around the Tablet. And with the Tablet: a price was hung over it with an omen as The Order grew close.  
  


She realised once more that she couldn’t do anything else to stop this. And if any blame of someone getting hurt after what happened Larry occurs: she would know where to point towards.  
  


Frustration grew in her body as Rowena let out a silent cry and fell to her knees.  
  


Despite those around her, waiting for her: Rowena Clarke never felt so helpless and alone. Salty tears fell onto the floor as she wept on the bathroom floor.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

A few hours later, she finally left her room dressed and prepared with no indication of what happened early at sunrise. When she passed the guest room, she hoped to knock on the door but stopped as soon as she heard the clatter of ceramic downstairs.  
  


When she was halfway down the stairs, she sighed in relief and mentally prepared herself to enter the den with a composed persona.  
  


‘ _You have to be strong for her,_ ’ Rowena told herself. ‘ _Remember that she needs you, and she needs someone for her to talk to._ ’ Adjusting her cardigan and dress-shirt, she held her chin up and gracefully moved towards the kitchen.  
  


It was a stagnant atmosphere the moment she entered the room. She casually began her usual routine, pulling out the drawer to grab a spoon before speaking aloud with some cheeriness in her tone. "Good morning."  
  


She heard no reply from her, only hearing the clink of a spoon hitting the bowl.  
  


Rowena suddenly felt the awkwardness rise, biting the inside of her mouth. Maybe it was too fake…  
  


Her eyes darted to Leslie and she stated. "So, you've met Yara," Rowena paused. "I suppose she’s out already?”  
  


"God knows. She said something about going to go have a smoke and get your prescription or something." Leslie eyed her and asked, "You're ill?"  
  


"No. Just some stuff," Rowena replied quickly and took out a mug from the cabinet before popping the kettle on.  
  


The noise of the kettle at least eased the tension between her and the American woman as she continued to grab a teabag and popped it right into the mug.  
  


The redhead said blankly, "Right." Leslie piped in, "You know I'm a doctor, right? I know shit."  
  


Leslie Carter was studying her, and she could easily tell the suspicion the moment Rowen paused to answer back. Rowen leaned against the counter table, eyeing the door. She was too exhausted to argue back, quickly changing the subject. "Anyone called?"  
  


She thanked Leslie for following on, answering back: "Nope. Just some random cell but I didn't pick it up.”  
  


Rowena silently nodded, before turning back to the counter. She poured the hot water into the mug and stirred it with the teaspoon. She expected some call from several governors in the museum, though it seemed everyone was either busy or were being ‘kind’ after what occurred. She assured Antonio and the board that she was alright, despite her still unsure on Antonio’s background.  
  


For one thing, she needed to try and make sure the museum was alright.  
  


“Probably some solicitors. They're a menace nowadays.” Rowena commented and headed to where Leslie sat.  
  


Pulling the chair out, she placed the tea down on the dining table and sat down.  
  


There was a moment of peace, where she was occupied by her phone screen and hoping to get some email from work. She flickered twice over the same text message before she heard a heavy sigh.  
  


“Okay, cut the nice crap now.” Leslie leaned forwards across the table, narrowing her eyes. She asked, “Can you explain to me this? This…thing.”  
  


“Why-“Startled and confused, Rowena blinked. “What?”  
  


What on earth was she talking about?  
  


Leslie threw her hands up and spoke, “This…thing.” She exasperated, “About the Tablet and whatnot.”  
  


Ah. That.  
  


Her lips quickly thinned, and her hands edged towards the cold metal pressed on her chest. The Wadjet was surprisingly cold today, which didn’t aid the cold sinking feeling in her stomach as the Tablet was mentioned out of Leslie’s lips.  
  


Leslie wasn’t blind towards detail, in fact, quite the opposite especially when it came to detail. She was curious as to how the Tablet was tied to Garret and the accident caused at Westminster bridge; why Garret himself took it.  
  


One of the other things she had to research after Larry woke up was finding a clue to Garret’s connections. The only way he could have taken the Tablet was using other people that worked in the museum so she had to carefully interfere with the interrogation with security. Antonio handled it well, revealing explicitly who were the ones that clearly aided him. She wanted to inform Leslie in person about it, but the moment she spotted the young Carter at the hospital, Rowena paused and retracted her questions.  
  


There was little trust between them now, enough for Leslie to stay with her surprisingly. But even so: Rowena didn’t trust her own home. And the only place to prove her side of the story was across the city.  
  


“Not here. I'll tell you once we get to the museum.” She revealed, clasping the handle of her mug tightly. She took a sip, not feeling well to get through the rest of the drink.  
  


Eyebrows furrowed as Leslie leaned back and questioned: “Why are we going there? This isn't going to help us find out why he was killed! We've got to go to the police. The equivalent of NYPD - Scotland Yard? They said that if we knew things, we should go to them!”  
  


Rowena stayed quiet, staring away from her.  
  


“You did tell them, right? Right?” Leslie pressed on.  
  


She turned to her, standing up from her seat. “As much as I want to criticise your American police force: We can't Leslie. Not with this.”  
  


They both stood frozen, with Leslie sitting across her with wary eyes as Rowena overlooked her at the other.  
  


Leslie’s voice quietened, and she saw the fear within her eyes. “Rowen, you're scaring me. Please tell me what's going on?”  
  


No breath escaped her. Her mind was battling to choose how to approach this. This was a sensitive time to reveal the truth of the Tablet and its magic. And it wasn’t her right to reveal the truth; it was for the Exhibits and Ahkmenrah to judge those for it. Since revealing to Teddy and Sacagawea about Salma Atkins, she and Ahkmenrah agreed they couldn’t bring anyone else to know the truth.  
  


So, should she reveal it to the woman who married the man that stole the Tablet? Would this help them protect them if Leslie even knew about it all?  
  


By then, Rowena already got an answer.  
  


“If you want answers, we have to go to the museum. And there I will explain the truth.” Rowena firmly spoke.  
  


Leslie looked at her with uncertainty. And with a shuddering sigh, she stood up with her and muttered, “...Fuck it. Let's go.”  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

With the morning rush hour occurring, Rowena didn’t want to fuel her own stress driving around London. So instead, she called a cab for the two of them to get to the museum.  
  


Yara arrived half an hour later, greeting Rowena with a white paper bag from the pharmacy and wanting to go and begin sorting out the housework. She thanked her friend for helping Leslie know her way around the terrace house, to which Yara brushed her off. The woman was not fazed after reading the news, more determined to bring Leslie to some light by telling her that there is going to be light after all of this.  
  


Only Rowena and Leslie had to silent look at each other, knowing that there is more to what the news covered.  
  


Rowena packed her usual work satchel, hiding another couple of daggers under her sleeve and ankle. She had to make sure she was prepared to protect Leslie and herself, even giving into her decision to take the handgun that was stashed in her own home.  
  


Once she met Leslie downstair at the front door, with Leslie having her own day bag and clothes which she borrowed from Yara, the two took the cab and headed to the British Museum.  
  


The silence didn’t help it at all, making her agitated as she continued to look in front. Her eyes glanced at her phone sometimes whilst looking at Leslie on the way. The young Carter appeared to get lost in the landscape of the city. Rowena wondered what Leslie was thinking, hoping that the anger in her has dwindled. She wanted so much to reach out to her, admitting that her motherly instincts kicking in as she continued to glance at Leslie.  
  


She knew that she was hurting, and she felt unworthy to be that comfort.  
  


Howard must be scolding her right now, probably even more distraught as he wouldn’t know what to do with his family. Her friend was unprepared of fatherhood, since he was at the peak time of his life, working on Tutankhamun and his tomb. Edmund was left under her wing whilst Howard slowly grew ill. And as once Edmund grew up, he was already gaining the independence and family of his own.  
  


Rowena didn’t know what Leslie’s relationship with her parents was like, only hearing things about their work and what she did with them as she was a child. Though, it wasn’t enough to know to admit that she knew what Leslie was with any parental figure. Rowena was just the friend and flatmate and nothing else. Maybe a family friend by that was it. So, what made Leslie choose to follow her after all that occurred?  
  


That thought made her hear a familiar chuckle in her head, Harry laughing at her own overthinking. Harry Bates was once in her position, unsure as to why a British spy suddenly trusted the American soldier to head into enemy lines. After her resurrection, it took Harry some moment to trust her again but easily continued with her as the war-battered on.  
  


Harry’s own voice in her head told her, ‘ _You seem so unsure of your own strength, Jo._ ’  
  


‘ _Well, how could I not?_ ’ Rowena huffed in her head. ‘ _Leslie needs someone with her that could understand her. That shouldn’t be me._ ’  
  


‘ _And why not?_ ’ Harry asked her. ‘ _You’ve been always been the person to understand people._ ’  
  


She looked out of the window, pursing her lips in thought. ‘ _I understand people like how I understand artefacts: I only assume who they were and their purpose and their history, but all I do is leave them preserved and keep them as they were.’_ She paused. _‘I couldn’t even help Ahk before realising myself that I didn’t know who I was._ ’  
  


Harry didn’t respond.  
  


Rowena asked, ‘ _How can I help them when I’m not confident of my own self-assurance?_ ’  
  


She could imagine her ex-lover gazing down at her with sad eyes, leaning down before pressing his lips on her forehead. Her eyes closed, remembering his own embrace. It comforted her, though there was a discorded feeling that made her shudder. She felt as if she was watching another person instead. That she was in Joanna Darcy’s shoes and not her own.  
  


"What the heck is with all this traffic?"  
  


Her mind caught back to reality, straightening her back as she stared out in front of the car. Leslie’s exclamation was not wrong, there was a line of cars and buses in front of them, beeping their horns as Londoners asked what was holding the traffic.  
  


Rowena huffed in annoyance, trying to keep her own patience as she asked the driver. "Excuse me, is there another way around?"  
  


"Not with this, sorry miss. Traffic's all the way up the street." The driver answered, eyeing her with the use of the rear mirror.  
  


She peered outside and recognised the street and buildings. It was not far from the front gates of the museum, perhaps a five-minute walk if they were quick. But with the number of people outside, it might take some time.  
  


"Don't-don't worry about it." Rowena gave the driver a sympathetic look before passing a note to him. "Here. We'll walk the rest of the way, the museum's not that far."  
  


After a share of thanks and the cab driver wishing them good luck, she gestured Leslie to exit the vehicle and begin their trek towards their destination. They waded through the bustling street and began to notice a wave of screams and shouts coming ahead. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as she now saw what happened.  
  


People were getting out of buses and cars, running opposite the direction they were walking – with fear and shock written on their faces. By her side, Leslie was trying to search far ahead but simply peered her eyes in confusion.  
  


"What the hell is going on?" The young Carter questioned, hand on her temple.  
  


Rowena slowed down to a stop, standing by Leslie as she went on her tiptoes to try and see what was occurring. People were bumping through them, shouting for them to run and hide.  
  


Well, if that wasn’t ominous enough.  
  


She answered her friend, never cutting away to look at the distance. "I don't know, but we've got to go Leslie." Rowena then adjusted her satchel, before pacing down the pavement, leaving her friend standing there agape.  
  


"Uhh...you know..." Leslie shouted through the crowd from behind Rowena. "According to movies, if people are running away from something: it must be bad!”  
  


"You are correct." Rowena commented sarcastically, "Thank you for your input, Carter."  
  


Leslie caught up with her, striding with her taller stature and legs. They continued down to the crossroads, just a block away from the main entrance of the museum.  
  


Several more people began abandoning their cars. A cyclist toppled over the curb and Rowena hurried towards the fallen man and helped him up. With thanks and a warning, the cyclist left leaving her even more afraid at what was to come. She thought of taking the handgun out for precaution, though she knew it might not get that far as she heard no sound of a gunshot.  
  


Instead, the air was filled with car alarms, horns and people crying and running. There was no wind, making the air still and silent. If they were running in the opposite direction, something must have happened near the museum. Was it the Order? Were they here to steal the Tablet again?  
  


Leslie asked again with disbelief: "So why are we going the opposite way? Towards the danger?"  
  


She replied, losing her patience with Leslie’s complaints. If she wanted answers, they had to get there on time. Rowena asserted, "Because the museum is this way-"  
  


"Great, shit happens days ago, and this happens.” The redhead exasperated and waved her arms in the air. “Well, let's just all just follow Rowen Bates into the fray!"  
  


Rowena spun around to face her and letting out a groan. "Leslie, could you please..."  
  


However, she was then stopped as she heard her phone buzz. With a mental groan, she shoved the phone against her ear – continuing to march in the right direction as Leslie followed behind her.  
  


Muttering to herself, "This better be important..." Rowena then took a breath before speaking loudly, "Look, Antonio...tell me what's happened."  
  


"Gigantress!"  
  


Rowena’s hand jerked away, and she eyed her phone in disbelief.  
  


That couldn’t possibly be.  
  


She closed the phone nearer to her ear, hearing a muffling sound and the panting of breaths. Rowena called out, "Jed...Jed? What are you-"  
  


"Thank the lord you picked up!" His voice spoke in franticness.  
  


Gods she wasn’t hallucinating.  
  


Rowena began, "You-"  
  


"Listen to me, Gigantress!" Jedediah panted. “Something crazy happened and we don’t know-“  
  


"What the hell-" Rowena’s voice hitched as she stopped around the corner.  
  


Running straight out of the museum doors was a skeletal dinosaur.  
  


In broad daylight.  
  


Two hundred and thirty-eight years she has walked this earth. She has seen dinosaurs come to life in the night. But seeing a stegosaurus dinosaur under the daylight… _in_ London out of all places – was something completely different.  
  


Her younger self would never _ever_ imagine this happening to her.  
  


The stegosaurus had somehow escaped through the front gates of the museum, breaking through the metallic barriers like a broken biscuit. Cars nearby were crushed as small bicycles were tossed aside.  
  


A roar echoed through the street, shaking the ground.  
  


Her breath was taken away.  
  


"What-What the fuck is that!" Leslie shouted. Rowena didn’t need to look at the shock as they stood still.  
  


Soon, the dinosaur spotted them and snarled before beginning to stomp towards them…  
  


"Get out of the way, Les!"  
  


Rowena quickly acted as fast as she could, tackling the redhead to the side as a large object almost hit them. Leslie out a shriek, dragged along as Rowena helped them enter the front opening of the museum. Everyone was gone and the front of the museum was destroyed.  
  


The large pillars were barely standing, hollowed by the form of the animal that stormed out of the building.  
  


Taking the doctor to the side, Rowena pulled Leslie into an alcove where the security once was and leaned back – finally releasing her breath.  
  


Leslie was heavily panting, her body shaking in fear as she cried, "Why _the fuck_ is a dinosaur alive! A dinosaur!"  
  


Her hands went to her friend’s trying to assure her presence. "Leslie! You've got to calm down. We've got to go inside."  
  


The young Carter didn’t respond, shaken by their near-death experience that Rowena could only tug her along towards the front entrance.  
  


As they ran in the open, the dinosaur was focused on crushing several cars and vehicles – enough for them to get to the steps. When Rowena got halfway up the stairs: she then realised that Leslie hadn’t followed her.  
  


A tuft of red hair was still hiding by some rubble, shaking her head to her.  
  


Leslie screamed, "Aw, fuck no!” She refused, “I'm heading back!"  
  


There was an ear-piercing roar.  
  


"Nevermind, I'm coming!”  
  


As the young Carter ducked, Leslie ran to follow on – arriving at her side. And by the time they got to the top of the stairs, they looked to find the dinosaur occupied by the vehicles. The stegosaurus crushing them like some toy.  
  


Though as much as the exhibit was a danger, there was more matter at hand.  
  


Leslie asked her, "What about the dinosaur, which is probably wreaking havoc outside?"  
  


Rowena replied, guilty rising to her voice. "We’ll deal with it at some point.” She was still out of breath (not sure whether it was the running or the situation of a dinosaur present).  
  


Now she knew how it felt when Larry took the first night.  
  


“We’ve got to find them first; we’ll need all the help we could get,” Rowena added.  
  


Leslie turned to her with a fixated expression – even more confused than before. "Them? Who's them?" She asked.  
  


Soon as those words left her mouth, a flash of silver zoomed passed them along with two other figures. The trio then let out a battle cry, catching the stegosaurus’ attention. It didn’t take long for the dinosaur to throw the battered _Ford Fiesta_ at a _Santander_ bike stall.  
  


The one in silver was in fact a night, dressed in what seemed to be actual medieval armour that Rowena was more afraid for the piece of history to be damaged than the actual wearer. The knight unsheathed a long straight blade, charging towards the stegosaurus with no hesitation. The other two joined them, the one in red revealing in their own blade and ran along whilst the other swung a lasso.  
  


They parried and danced around the stegosaurus as they tried to tug the dinosaur down. Letting a piercing roar, the hairs of Rowena's skin prickled after hearing the dinosaur. She was standing right on the staircase, clutching her satchel and wondering what she was doing. She was hardly matched for a thirty-foot dinosaur, spotting the tail lunge towards them.  
  


The knight quickly appeared in front, deflecting the bony structure with his sword. He cried out, "Hiya! My ladies! You must hide, I will deal with this creature!" Flinging the tail out, he then let another cry before laughing in joy.  
  


Rowena blankly said, “Well. _He's_ new.”  
  


But before she finished commenting, she jumped into cover behind the remains of a pillar, tucking her satchel over her chest. She then crouched once more as debris flew from above. The rumbling of the dinosaur’s feet quietened, as it screeched in pain. She slowly peered around the column and spotted the three figures surrounding the stegosaurus.  
  


And in one quick swoop, the knight quickly swiped his sword through the dinosaur’s neck.  
  


Rowena flung back in shock, the memory of her dream giving her chest out.  
  


In and out, she could hear ringing bells and the gurgling of Ahk's blood.  
  


There was a thud.  
  


Harry whispered in her mind, ‘ _It’s okay, doll. It’s over. It’s dead._ ’  
  


‘ _But it’s not supposed to be alive!_ ’ She cried internally. She was pulsing her hands, trying to focus on reality whilst she steadied her breathing.  
  


Beside her, the young Carter wasn’t doing any better, staring in front in a state of shock. Taking the young woman’s hand in hers, Rowena snapped Leslie’s trance and tried to squeeze in reassuringly.  
  


She waited for her to respond, and Leslie looked to her with a thankful gaze before they stood up.  
  


As they got up and stepped out into the open at the top of the stairs, Rowena could only leave her mouth clamped shut.  
  


The front of the museum was destroyed, left with a skeleton remnant and a skull detached by its body. The ground was cracked and the water from the fountains filled over in puddles.  
  


She composed herself, adjusting her satchel and descended the steps to walk over to the knight.  
  


Once the knight removed his helmet, she was faced with a man that could be glowing under the sunlight. His chiselled face and long blonde hair could match the bluest eyes she ever saw, almost the colour of sapphire if Rowena could compare it to a jewel. He swaggered to them like a model at a runway, slinging his helmet under an arm and his sword on his sheathe.  
  


She knew eventually who this exhibit was.  
  


Rowena heard Leslie’s sharp intake of air as she muttered, “Jesus Christ.”  
  


If she weren’t shocked still at the still stegosaurus behind him, she would be snorting.  
  


The knight smiled through his teeth, a confused expression on him. “I do not know who that is.” He then gestured, “But my ladies, fear not: you have been saved by a knight of the Round Table. Sir Lancelot, at your pleasure.”  
  


As he bowed before them, Rowena refrained the instinct of curtsying by staring at him with tight lip. This was not the right time to deal with a fictional character, especially for someone awake during the day.  
  


“Rowen…and this is the Lady Leslie.” She gestured to her right and then inquired. “Now if you'll excuse. Who on earth are they-“  
  


“There she is! Rowen!”  
  


It was there she lost the last part of her sentence.  
  


Appearing right around the corner of the dinosaur were two people she was not expecting at all.  
  


“...Jed? Octavius?” She stuttered, eyeing them up and down. And she _never_ had to do this. “You're...”  
  


“Gigantic? Aw heck yeah we are!”  
  


A weird choking noise escaped her, making Leslie glance at her oddly.  
  


The blonde cowboy opened his arms wide, gesturing to himself as he dusted his sleeves. While beside him, the roman rolled his eyes before smiling kindly _down_ to her.  
  


‘ _Perhaps I am dreaming this all._ ’ She thought.  
  


She was staring up to two of her friends, feeling incredibly uncomfortable at the situation that she wanted squash those two men down and force them back to their original sizes. How on earth and god’s name did they get big?  
  


And not big: normal human size.   
  


Oh, how was she going to explain to Leslie?  
  


Jedediah cut off the silence, nudging his chin up towards them. He questioned, “Who's the red-head?”  
  


“Who the fuck are you?” Leslie eyed him with narrowed eyes.  
  


Leaning down to Rowena, he glanced at Leslie and commented, “I like her already.”  
  


Rowena sighed in her head. ‘ _Of course, he’ll be the same as always._ ’ She swatted Jedediah’s arm and he yelped, pouting back, making him step back beside Octavius.  
  


“You like anyone that is as crude as you.” Octavius rolled his eyes before hearing a hum of agreement from Jedediah.  
  


Once she was brought back to the task at hand, Rowena cut the bickering between the two and Lancelot, “Introductions later between us, boys." She asked, "I need to know where the Tablet is, is it alright?"  
  


Jedediah answered back, “With Ahky boy in the Egyptian Exhibit. Come on, we'll show you.” He then proceeded to walk ahead in stride, bringing Octavius and Lancelot trailing behind.  
  


When she turned to watch the two miniatures (well…this might be an issue) head up to the main entrance, all Rowena could do was maintain the composure as much. Though, she could already feel in crumbling after what just happened.  
  


“...From your face: you're surprised as well.” Leslie’s voice carried her, making her slap her hand over her face.  
  


She wanted to groan but allowed herself to rub her temples before taking a large inhale of air and strode up the steps along their trail whilst Leslie caught up next to her.  
  


Rowena was dreading what was in course for her inside.


	51. Let's Escape a Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, with Larry, Nick and Rebecca - something more sinister is lingering and beginning to surface. Larry is sensing more of the weirdness after dying but is cut short when danger comes to them unexpectedly. 
> 
> Whereas at the museum, Ahkmenrah realises that not only they were awake during the day - he was more whole than the usual mummy.
> 
> However, Ahkmenrah and Rowen's quick reunion is cut short when a familiar face tells them that they are to seek the being called the Lady of Knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody and welcome back. Finally got around to finishing this after exams. Updates will return to its usual once a week.
> 
> As well as this, I decided to make this a little longer than usual to treat you after two weeks of no updates. :)

** Larry XXXII  
  
**

**_2014 - London  
  
_ **

He blinked his eyes open, adjusting his sight with the bright hospital light before he stretched his arms out with a yawn. Towards his left, he tilted his head to find a figure sitting in the chair – eyes focused on the laptop perched on his knees.  
  


With those dark circles under his eyes, Larry didn’t need to deduce that his son hadn’t slept again. Why didn’t he and Rebecca go and spend some time outside instead being cooped up inside? Even if they were on some form of business holiday, he knew Nicky was busy with college applications whilst Rebecca was sorting some work for the museum.  
  


But seeing him here made his heart clench and flutter.  
  


“Hey...Nicky,” He weakly said followed by a rasped breath before reaching his hand out.  
  


In a stuttered motion, Nick inhaled in surprised and placed his laptop down on the side-table, almost dropping it in the process. Larry couldn’t help but chuckle at his son’s antics. He might have been asleep for almost three days, but those three days have been the longest for him and everyone that he cared for. He felt detached to the real world at those times, trying to relay the moments and struggling to get off the nightmares.  
  


So, seeing his son by his side was something he needed.  
  


“Dad, I'm glad that you're awake,” Nick said, relief in his voice when he grasped Larry’s hand.  
  


It took him a moment not to choke up and realise the sudden interaction. Remembering the last time his son had held him was when he was bleeding on a bridge.  
  


The room went slightly chilly, though not as long as he presumed when his eyes spotted Rebecca stand up from her seat. She went over to the end of his bed, a soft smile that filled him with warmth. She didn’t appear any better, dark circles and tense shoulders as she sat back and always diverted her eyes anywhere but his torso. And despite all that, she was here and breathing – with the beauty and clever eyes he loved.  
  


Guilt struck a chord in him once he dwelled on the thought of them. They had through so much because of his recklessness; because he did what he thought was right. Now it seemed all like a mistake.  
  


‘ _Maybe I was wrong._ ’ He thought. ‘ _Maybe I shouldn’t have done it._ ’  
  


Of course no once couldn’t truly go to the past and change things. No magic – even the Tablet – could do something as going back to the past (unless there’s more to the Tablet’s magic…). Even now: Larry began to think about what had happened. Did his family see it? His parents and cousins and uncles and aunts? What would they think of him now?  
  


And the exhibits? If they saw him there and then on the hospital bed, he would not hear the end of it from every one of them.  
  


Rebecca spoke quietly, “I'm sorry if we woke you up.”  
  


Larry sat up, groaning in slight pain whilst he adjusted his position. He cracked up a joke, trying to remove the feeling of pain both from guilt and physical pain.  
  


“It’s fine. I've been asleep for over a day now.” He held his hand up, waving it to his son and fiancée to show the needle and tube which connected to the drip. “You’ve got to thank the doctors here for the free health care.”  
  


He nudged his chin to where Nick placed his laptop and quipped about being able to probably understand the coding his son did after waking up.  
  


“You're drug talking, Larry.” Rebecca wryly replied, but there was an underlining tone of concern.  
  


Larry carefully thought what to say next. He did feel fine, and even if he were in pain, no living human could be this lively after going through a surgery. “No. It's not the morphine.” He reassured the two of them. “I feel fine, actually.”  
  


An unimpressed look shot towards him, and with Nick almost seeming more suspicious. He should have known that his son would pry, even if he did not need to speak about it. Though, what do you say to people what you might think you are?  
  


‘ _Oh, guess what? I might be like Rowen! I died but some goddess helped me bring myself back to life. Oh, and I met a four-thousand-year-old queen who was Ahk’s sister-in-law apparently and I witnessed her, **and** her son gets murdered by people._’ Larry sarcastically thought to himself. ‘ _That’s a perfectly normal reason as to why you’re alive and not dead._ ’  
  


If they did believe all the rambling he would say, what would they think? That he wasn’t himself anymore?  
  


Wait no. Of course, he was himself. Except for the ageing part and the odd thrum of his heart-  
  


‘ _What if I won’t die…_ ’  
  


Larry stopped himself and shook his head.  
  


He didn’t want to even ask that question.  
  


‘ _Nope, not gonna answer that._ ’  
  


Instead, he shuffled in the hospital bed, carefully pulling the cover off his body. When he pulled up a part of his shirt, where he had been shot, all he got was a sharp intake of breath.  
  


Nicky was the first to speak, “What? But there should be...”  
  


In the exact place where a bullet hole should have been, was nothing by a raw scar. The bullet wound should take weeks to heal. For him: only a few days. Perhaps it was what saved him more than the goddess, his body had fixed itself like he was _Wolverine_ that it almost scared him.  
  


He pulled the shirt down and looked at the two with a hefty sigh. “Look. Nick. Becca...” Guilt rose in his voice. “I don't think I've been honest with you two for the past few months-“ Larry’s voice trailed off once his attention grew to the screams from in front of him.  
  


His eyes wandered towards the television placed on the far wall, the news playing out as the reporter called out.  
  


Written on the bottom was a simple sentence.  
  


**_A skeleton dinosaur is rampaging through London  
  
_ **

He leaned forward, forgetting that he was bedridden that he had to backtrack. Nick stared at the screen with wide eyes whilst Rebecca’s hand fell over to her open mouth. They watched a shaking camera show a skeletal stegosaurus tossing a car like a toy.  
  


The live footage gave him another shiver of cold feeling.  
  


“What the heck...” That was all Larry could say.  
  


The air in the room could not get any tenser as he tried to concentrate on the TV.  
  


“That's not possible,” Rebecca’s mouth was open wide, her eyes transfixed to the screen.  
  


He replied simply, “No, it's not.”  
  


And somehow it was.  
  


Nothing could possibly replicate something reckless and chaotic as a real dinosaur. Back in New York, they have always brushed off the possibilities as ‘special effects’ to those who questioned Rexy and the Maori head they possessed. However, that was inside the museum. Rexy was tamed by them and didn’t chuck (wait, is that a Vespa?) anything towards civilians.  
  


“But...it's daytime!” Nick pointed, stammering in incredulity. “The sun should have turned it to dust.”  
  


While his mind was elsewhere, he watched his son’s eyes fly over to his laptop and scroll somewhere whilst Rebecca had a phone pressed next to the ear. But every call was left her making a noise of frustration, and Larry could only assume their historian friend was busy.  
  


The first thing which he assumed was the Tablet, the only magical artefact that he knew was in the city, and probably the only thing that could bring something to life. But those words which Teddy once told him that first night resonated in his head, Larry had to fear the worse as well as be confused. Only the Tablet could bring something to life during the night. Sunlight turned them nothing but to ashes.  
  


So why didn’t the Tablet turn the dinosaur to dust?  
  


Larry subconsciously removed the blanket and began to sit up. “I know. Come on-“ But before he could even shuffle his body to the edge, an arm clamped against his own. His eyes darted upwards, finding the flare of annoyance in Rebecca’s eyes. A warning that if he moved a muscle, she could probably sprain one back in retaliation.  
  


“Hey,” She spoke boldly and ordered: “You sit your ass back down again.”  
  


However, that only fuelled his own frustration and anticipation back, lowering his voice. “Becca, people are in danger.” Larry flashed his eyes, breathing sharply. “ _They_ are in danger! I can’t just lay here and not do anything!”  
  


Furrowed eyebrows nestled into a scowl as Rebecca said, “No, Larry Daley. You just got _shot_ for crying out loud!” Her voice wavered, a mix of anger. “I’m not letting you out of this place until you’re better.”  
  


There was then a knock on the door and Larry quickly rested his back over the pillows down.  
  


He tried his best to relax and refrain the indignation that was bubbling in his chest. He knew that Rebecca knew who would be in danger, and yet she wouldn’t let him do what he can. Larry was perfectly fine (apart from the wound in his stomach) and was fine enough to get up and make sure they’re fine. He was their nightguard for god’s sake, and he had the right.  
  


Though some small part of him did feel guilty lashing out so suddenly. Perhaps it was because of how long he’d spent in bed – getting more restless as the world outside turned upside down when he couldn’t do anything about it. Even so, Larry was determined to get to the museum no matter what.  
  


The two figures entered the hospital room. The first one had been familiar; Larry recognised the short cut brown hair and tall figure with the rectangular black specs. He wore a white coat over light blue hospital scrubs much like the other. The second figure was shorter, perhaps a nurse in his speculation. Her light brown, almost gingery hair was tied back in a low neat bun, her dark eyes glancing over to the window before walking over to the drawers of medicine.  
  


Rebecca had composed herself, looking less disgruntled. But he could tell by her clenched fists and the blank look she was doing her best to refrain some propriety. He could sense the vexation that radiated off her. She was mad at him.  
  


‘ _Technically, she has the right to be angry,_ ’ A part of his mind tutted and Larry shooed it away. He didn’t need this right now.  
  


Larry turned his attention to the first when Rebecca greeted the doctor politely, “Dr Jones.”  
  


“Good morning,” Dr Jones flashed a curt smile and nodded to Larry. “We’re just here to check up on you, Mr Daley.”  
  


Whilst the nurse was taking several things and checking his drip, Dr Jones thanked Rebecca and Nick for space and asked him if he could see the wound. Somehow, there was some resistance in his mind, telling Larry that he shouldn’t. However, he nodded stiffly and decided to push the blanket down and show the exposed skin.  
  


Dr Jones peered down and inspected the marks. Larry was sweating with worry. What would the doctor say if he saw that it was almost healed?  
  


But what he didn’t expect as he watched the doctor look made his throat tighten like a knot.  
  


Larry’s heart grew cold.  
  


On the back of the man’s neck was the same symbol that he had seen from Cecil.  
  


_The Snake_ and _The Sha.  
  
_

‘ _He’s one of them_ ,’ He realised but another voice in the back of his mind refused to admit aloud.  
  


“How is he, doctor?” Rebecca cut him off his frozen state, sitting by his side as the doctor stepped back and allowed Larry to put his shirt down carefully.  
  


Writing down some things on his clipboard, Dr Jones looked up to Rebecca. “His wound is healing well, though he will need to be here a little longer.”  
  


He flicked a glance at Nick and Rebecca, who stayed quiet as the doctor checked his drip and file. Larry said, a hint of hope in his voice. “Oh, I was hoping I’ll be fine in a few days.”  
  


The nurse had passed something to Dr Jones, who muttered something back. Blank eyes from the nurse looked over to the doctor before nodding silently. Afterwards, Larry heard those words which echoed in his head.  
  


“Sudden movement will potentially rip the stitching. Especially when travelling, it may need to be tended if an accident occurs.” Dr Jones informed them, “A couple more weeks would be able to give time for it to heal.”  
  


In his mind, Larry should agree with the suggestion. But those suspicious eyes and the tattoo of the Order was giving him a pit in his stomach. This man knew; he had to know after what happened to Trench. And he wanted Larry to stay here because of his injury was far from the truth. Larry could not breathe. He needed to leave, escape with Rebecca and Nick before they could get them.  
  


Instead, Dr Jones was proceeding to leave the room.  
  


“I’ll stay to give them the details.” The nurse informed the doctor to which he nodded.  
  


“Thank you.” Dr Jones smiled though it never reached his eyes, “Nurse Anna will let you know alternatives on the arrangement.”  
  


As the door shut, there was a second of stagnant silence before Larry saw the short figure quickly rush to where his drip was and snatched the bag off the hook.  
  


Wait what.  
  


Panic rose from Larry, and he didn’t need to look at Rebecca at her horror as she stammered, “Wait, what are you doing?”  
  


The nurse stared at them, before locking eyes at him.  
  


“You all need to leave.” Her accent immediately changed, lingering into an American one. “I have someone already prepared at the parking lot to take you to a safe house.”  
  


He was knocked back in surprise. Who was she? And what did she mean about a safe house?  
  


Rebecca had stood on the other side of the bed, glaring daggers at the woman as she continued to pack several small bags of medicine and his own bag of clothes.  
  


“Who are you, and what does he want from me?” Larry demanded.  
  


To his luck, Anna (or whatever her name was) appeared to know what he meant and nudged her chin to the TV, which was still playing the news. She knew something about the dinosaur, and she didn’t seem fazed by this at all.  
  


‘ _Like the man in the London Underground…_ ’ Larry remembered.  
  


Anna zipped the bag open, laying out a shirt and his jacket on the bed. “I see that you’ve seen the news. The Ennead has granted something which they have never done unless it was our last salvation.”  
  


The Ennead granted what- Larry could hardly believe his ears. No one but their resident Ancient Egyptians mentioned that name, and he quickly felt his suspicions rise. How did this woman know about them? And what did she meant that they granted them something?  
  


Dark eyes met his own, and Anna spoke. “The Order is hunting you down. All three of you. They knew where you were once Garret Trench was killed.”  
  


Whilst he changed his hospital gown for his clothes with the aid of Anna, he heard Rebecca sharpen her breath and he glanced over to his fiancée. Larry had told Rebecca about them, but he had not been truly honest. The day he met Ian Winterson, he had been so distraught that he never got around to tell her or Nick.  
  


Larry realised the number of times he has been in the Order’s grasp.  
  


And this time: they wanted him. This time, they wanted him for something he didn’t have but for something he could get.  
  


He breathed, “He’s one of them. They want the Tablet, but I don’t-“  
  


Anna interrupted him, narrowing her eyes that indicated him to be quiet. “You know what your importance is to them, Mr Daley. I am here to make sure you’re all out.” She looked at her phone, and hurriedly zipped the rest of his things and pulled the wheelchair to his side. “Quickly, we have five minutes.”  
  


Larry looked at the wheelchair and gritted his teeth. And with a quick breath, he lugged his feet to the edge of the bed and sat up. He tried his best not to stretch, carefully placing himself down into the seat with his son’s help. He thanked Nick, before taking his backpack of clothes and medicine and hovered his gaze over to Rebecca.  
  


She was not on board with what the woman was on about, more concerned of Larry’s and Nick’s safety than to leave unexpectedly. But she was fighting, knowing well that they had no choice but to follow this nurse (to which Larry now doubted if she really was) because of Dr Jones.  
  


Nick pushed him towards the door, leaving the room in a mess after they packed their belongings whilst Anna panned her head outside to make sure it was clear. Once she nodded to them, Larry took a deep breath for assurance.  
  


They made their way down the corridors, passing nurses and doctors who seemed unfazed by them. Larry didn’t spot any other Set follower, feeling the heat cool down as they entered the elevators. However, his heart was beating a million times a second – afraid that it could burst out of his chest if something else occurred.  
  


This was so wrong in so many levels, and yet he could feel his own body running in adrenaline (and possibly morphine). His hands grew numb, shaking in anticipation as the elevator descended pass several floors.  
  


As the door shut, Rebecca asked the nurse quietly, “How about security?”  
  


There was a moment, the woman looked at her and contemplated. Larry also wondered this as well. Nobody in the hospital reacted and cameras have always integrated into the lives of the modern world.  
  


“I disabled it long enough for you to escape.” The enigmatic woman looked over to Rebecca and said with a soft tone, “Ms Hutman, you must cooperate. You can trust me enough to ensure your escape.”  
  


If he had the audacity to snort right there and then, Rebecca would have whacked him in the head. This woman had no clue who she stood next to, and Larry and Nick seemed to know by their faces to each other that they felt the tension grow between the two. Rebecca was already mad at him for suggesting going out, so this was just the icing on top.  
  


Larry heard Rebecca mutter next to him, “You remind me of someone.”  
  


He furrowed his eyebrows, curious as to why his fiancée commented. Though it didn’t take a second to agree with her statement. The woman looked familiar indeed – but where _has_ he seen her before?  
  


“They say I blend too well, an advantage for a spy.” In the corner of his eyes, Anna smiled back before finding Larry’s gaze and those lips tightened to a thin line. “You shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t trust anyone.”  
  


“I don't trust you,” Larry spoke quietly, and to his surprise found her not reacting in annoyance. At least they were all on the same page despite knowing that they will be going into the fray with a blind eye.  
  


The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “I assure you; The Guardians and Ms Carter are safe. They will join you shortly with your companions.” The elevator doors opened, and she said to the three, “Now, let us go.”  
  


They arrived at the ground floor, and what seems to be more endless corridors and hallways. Whilst Anna strode first ahead along with Rebecca, Nick pushed him behind and continued down the path. There were some glances to him though it didn’t seem too much to be concerned about. People were too busy with their own agendas, and Larry thanked the busy weekday and hallways to hide them.  
  


Just as the made it to the end of the corridor, splitting to what seems to be the front entrance, Rebecca and Anna halted before Larry and Nick arrived.  
  


“What's wrong?” Rebecca questioned, eyeing Anna.  
  


However, the woman’s eyes panned to one end. There was a discomforting feeling rising in Larry’s heart the moment he focused on several people wearing suits and doctor overalls coming from the right corridor. They hadn’t noticed them yet, but he could tell eventually they weren’t the usual bystanders.  
  


“I believe we have some company,” Anna murmured and ushered them to the left, exiting the main hall. “Come. We'll go this way.”  
  


Rebecca turned her head over her shoulder and relaxed slightly to find him and Nick. He then told Nick to follow them and continued down the hospital, not before Larry glanced back at the figures behind them.  
  


The group of doctors and suited business people went down to where they exited and he couldn’t help but skip a beat of breath. ‘ _If you didn’t leave, they probably would have gotten you, Daley._ ’ He said to himself. ‘ _Also, how the crap can I sense their people now all of a sudden?_ ’  
  


Once they arrived at a quieter exit, Anna and Rebecca held the doors for Nick to roll him through.  
  


“Who are they?” Larry asked, looking over to the spy.  
  


Anna shut the fire exit, clamping it shut before guiding them into the car park. She answered briefly with shallow breaths, “Order spies.” A curse left her mouth, taking her phone out. He heard her let out a noise of annoyance before adding, “Damn Paladino and his entail.”  
  


Whilst the wound through the car park, they spotted a black vehicle parked between cars, blended by the colours. A person exited the driver’s seat, nodding to Anna before rushing to open the passenger doors.  
  


The fake nurse explained that the driver would take them somewhere safe, to which Rebecca could only nod before aiding Larry off his wheelchair. He took another deep breath, before pushing every bit of his strength into the car. After sliding in, he wavered a bit as he felt the adrenaline reduce. Nick slipped into the side with their bags and he thanked his son.  
  


However, once everyone was in: the only person that stood outside was Anna herself.  
  


Unrolling the window, he questioned to her, “Where are you going? Aren’t you coming with us?”  
  


The woman turned to him and stepped close to the window. Her sharp dark eyes boring into his that. Anna answered, “They will soon know who led you out, therefore, they will be looking for me. I am only a courier and a spy.” She glanced back, before nodding back to him and back to Rebecca. “Your journey begins at the British Library. There you will get your answers.”  
  


He opened his mouth to retort, and to tell the woman to get inside. Though, he knew well enough not to get into the spy’s way. Whoever they were and whatever the reason they did this, Larry realised that this was how it was going to come. And despite the hostility and the short time, Anna had done her job.  
  


So, Larry caught her attention with a cough, his last parting words filled with gratitude. “Anna, or whoever you are. Thank you.”  
  


There was a look of pride and emotion in the woman’s face as she nodded her chin curtly. She spoke several words, though Larry could only guess to be either Mandarin or Cantonese.  
  


“May you go in peace, Guardian.” Anna’s last words back in English before placing her palm over her chest. “Good luck.”  
  


The engine ignited whilst he and the rest caught the nurse disappear in the sea of vehicles – the enigmatic woman who saved them and possibly kept them alive. Larry leaned back in the back seat, trying to settle his heart. He could only hope where they were going, his friends would be there.  
  
  


**~oOo~  
  
  
**

** Ahkmenrah XX  
  
**

**_2014 – London  
  
_ **

Ahkmenrah had his fair share of existential crises. Though, nothing from the previous mental breakdowns could replicate this.  
  


No. This was something else entirely.  
  


‘ _This must be a dream,_ ’ He told himself, staggering away from the Tablet. ‘ _A very vivid and realistic dream that I cannot wake up to…_ ’  
  


Though if it was a dream, he wondered why the blonde-haired woman was pointing a hammer at him. (If he recalled several months ago, it did remind him of the superhero movie with the blonde-man with the large metal hammer).  
  


Her presence immediately cut him off his head, standing rigidly in position as he watched the British night guard block the entrance.  
  


“Stay back! Tell me where the body is!” She cried the widest eyes that easily showed her fear.  
  


Ahkmenrah winced at the loud voice echo back before sighing. It would seem Tilly had found his sarcophagus in the other hall and found it open and empty. Hence why he was in this predicament having to deal with the nightguard.  
  


He should probably mention the other nightguard who he scared as well.  
  


Questioning behind him, Ahkmenrah’s father gave a confused gaze. “What is wrong with the girl?”  
  


There was a little part of him that wanted to answer back to his father, but he knew they wouldn’t get anywhere unless he calmed the nightguard down. He held his hands up, a signal of surrender as he tried to find her eyesight.  
  


“Tilly...Tilly, it is me.” Ahkmenrah slowly spoke, taking a step forward.  
  


But that had been a mistake, making her step back – jabbing the hammer back at him once more. “No it isn't!” Tilly shook her head, “The real mummy would be dead during the day!”  
  


He inhaled sharply before replying coolly, “Something happened, Tilly.” Ahkmenrah assured her with honesty, “Believe me, I would have explained it mere seconds ago if I knew.”  
  


That had clicked gradually in the nightguard’s mind, her arm lowering down before stepping forwards and facing him with a gaping mouth.  
  


“Oh my god.” She breathed, “You're actually alive.” Tilly took a step back, flickering her eyes from him to what seemed to be at his parents’ direction.  
  


Before he could speak, he spotted several figures in the distance. His head looked up, a mixture of relief and more confusion when he found his friends stride up to the Egyptian exhibit with more confused expressions.  
  


Tilly noticed that his attention went from behind her and she turned around with her jaw still slack. And if Ahkmenrah wasn’t impressed at himself for being calm and collected, he would share the same shock as the nightguard.  
  


Teddy was the first to exclaim, “Good heavens, my boy! What happened?”  
  


Even in this situation, the president’s exuberance couldn’t help make Ahkmenrah smile, relief put on his shoulders. “Thank Ra you’re here, Teddy, Sac, Attila. I am glad it is not just us awake.”  
  


Eyebrows nudging upwards with mirthful eyes, Sacagawea spoke. “You should see the rest of the exhibits; they’re wondering why they’re awake too and scaring the day guards.” The Native American turned to the woman beside Ahkmenrah and added, “I think it’s best to assure them that it’s alright, Tilly. You could probably stop your co-workers, screaming down the hall too. Might prevent them from scaring the other exhibits.”  
  


Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow at the three, to which Sacagawea gave him a look of questioning and acknowledgement and he silently bit his lip from smiling. How she knew it had been him that resulted in a frightened nightguard was hard to comprehend. Ahkmenrah just thanked her for at least lessening the guilt.  
  


Nodding, Tilly followed on with the plan and awkwardly hid the hammer behind her back. “Right…I’m going to go.” She then pointed a finger at him and his friends before speaking with an orderly tone, “Don’t you leave, you got me?”  
  


Ahkmenrah watched the rest nod whilst he followed suit. Before long, Tilly rushed out of the exhibit with a hammer in tow – hopefully, to stop the other security guards startling the exhibits.  
  


Whilst the sound of clicking leather shoes disappeared, his own sandals slapped onto the marble as he rushed back towards the Tablet and carefully took it into his hands. The moment his fingers touched the golden material, it felt like a tsunami of heat fill his entire body. The last time he felt revived was when the Tablet was restored.  
  


But this time, it was like running on sugar. He felt alive, his skin tingling as he grazed a finger over the panels.  
  


Even weirder – there was a sort of connection between him the Tablet. Not a voice or an irritating noise but a soft hum that thrummed inside him. Ahkmenrah was startled by the change that he jumped the moment a hand fell on his shoulder.  
  


On his left, he turned to find his friends stand around him with Teddy asking him, “Dear boy, do you know how it came to this?”  
  


Ahkmenrah replied, “I’m not so sure. The Tablet seems to be functioning well.” He then paused slightly and peered to where Attila’s hat laid on his head. To his surprise, he could not see Jedediah or Octavius at all.  
  


“Where is the tiny cowboy and the Roman?” Shepseheret was the one that left the question out of his lips, looking at them with curiosity.  
  


He was next to give them a questionable gaze.  
  


Sacagawea answered solemnly, hiding something in her lingering tone. “Dealing with the dinosaur outside. Lancelot’s with them.”  
  


With a brow raised, Ahkmenrah responded: “Somehow I doubt what you’re speaking of, Sac.”  
  


The president, the Native American woman and the Hun leader glanced at each other – the three knowing more than he did. What on earth could the two miniatures be doing that made the three secretly laugh back?  
  


Teddy smiled, commenting: “You’ll be surprised.”  
  


Attila said in Hun, “I was to go with them and help. But they were insisting to do it on their own.”  
  


Ahkmenrah gave each of them a confused look, wanting to get some answer but it seemed they wanted to hold it back. ‘ _Fine then, as long as they are alright, I will question it later._ ’ He placed the Tablet under his arm, heading to where his parents were standing by the side.  
  


They looked to have been talking, whispering to each other. It seemed something he should be concerned by how his mother’s face was littered with worry and nerves – so unlike herself. On the other hand, his father was pondering, staring at the wall of hieroglyphics as he held his staff by his side.  
  


He wasn’t sure if he was ready to speak to his father after what happened days ago. Ahkmenrah wasn’t ready to forget nor definitely forgive anything that he had done to him and his brother. The disappointment was still there whenever he felt his father’s presence.  
  


However, Ahkmenrah knew he had to know if Merenkahre had some inkling knowledge of this. So, he walked carefully to him, standing by his side as he stared at the wall. The writings spoke of how their souls were delivered to the afterlife – pretty ironic how they were still here.  
  


He then took his chance and asked. “Father, tell me what’s going on.” Ahkmenrah turned his head to his right to him, “Why are we awake? Not that I’m against it but-“  
  


“Tell me, do you feel different?” His father cut him off, panning his head to him.  
  


Confusion fell on him. He didn’t feel any different as before. He could see and feel his skin. The beating of his heart-  
  


Wait.  
  


His heart.  
  


His hand pressed over to where the organ was once placed and felt a gentle thrum. Ahkmenrah sharply inhaled and focused on the beats. Blinking many times, he turned to where his father was – who looked at him and waited.  
  


“My body. I’m complete. How is this possible?” Ahkmenrah asked him, “The Tablet can’t possibly bring everything back to its original state. Unless…” He trailed off, the realisation eventually arriving.  
  


Merenkahre stared back at him and murmured, “I think you already know how I would answer that.”  
  


His gaze returned to the wall, pursing his lips as he could feel himself blinking away watery eyes. Was it true? Could he possibly be alive again…  
  


Ahkmenrah’s thoughts were halted when he heard the clanking of metal armour and the growing voices from the entrance. He gave a silent glance at his father, before spinning back around to where his friends were and strode back over to them.  
  


“Did you see me, Tavius? I was riding that monster like a bull at a rodeo!” He heard Jedediah’s voice coming from down the hall, whooping a noise.  
  


“Yes, you were. And you were going to break a bone if I hadn’t caught you in time!” The next voice was Octavius, chiding his partner.  
  


He twitched his lips at the two voices. At least some things have stayed the same.  
  


Whilst he thought of the two miniatures, his ears perked up in curiosity when he heard them, “Do you two just bicker all the goddamn time?” It was American and high pitched, and he finally remembered who it was.  
  


It was the exact same time that he found five people enter the room, his eyes immediately went to the petite woman leading them.  
  


Rowen continued speaking, “You’ll get used to it.” Though paused as she met his gaze. She said, “…Ahk.”  
  


His feet automatically led him to her, grasping her into a tight embrace. Ahkmenrah inhaled, eased by her familiar perfume and a small figure in his arms. Gods, he thanked for her to arrive in time and silently prayed she was well. Stepping back a bit, he stared down at his love and pressed a kiss on her forehead.  
  


Ahkmenrah began, “Rowen…I-“It felt like something tied a knot in his throat as he gave a double-take behind Rowen.  
  


“Jedediah? Octavius?” His eyebrows rose in awe as he cried, “What in Ra’s name happened to you?”  
  


And his exclamation was clearly an understatement. He spotted two figures that now stood beside Lancelot appeared to be the same ashes two friends – but just a dozen times the height. If he had to admit, they might even be taller than him to his displeasure.  
  


Jedediah flashed a grin at him as Rowen went to his side. “Aw, Ahky boy’s in the same sticky situation as Gigantress here.” The cowboy eyed the petite woman down and continued, “Well, sounds pretty weird calling you that. Never thought you’ll be this-“  
  


“You finish that sentence, Jedediah: I will not hesitate to toss your hat into a fire.” Rowen snapped, warning the now tall man in front of them.  
  


At this point of view, Ahkmenrah should be amused – watching Rowen go against Jedediah no matter the height or consequence.  
  


“Hey! Give this cowboy a break.” Jedediah pouted, before grinning and gesturing to himself. “He’s bathing in the reality of the big world, which seems pretty small actually.”  
  


Octavius, who stood by the cowboy, hummed in agreement. “I’m not as surprised, though I do admit, everything does seem quite quaint.”  
  


At that moment, their familiar capuchin clambered up to the Roman’s shoulder and made a noise of what seemed to be agreement. Dexter had arrived on time, apparently waiting for the miniatures (he must find another name for them) and Lancelot after their quest.  
  


Slipping a small smile, Ahkmenrah was glad there was some happiness in this time. For the moment silence befell them, Rowen had caught him back to the subject at hand.  
  


She asked, looking at him with concern, “Ahk, what’s going on? Is this the Tablet’s magic?”  
  


His lips pursed and his mind was reverted to the thoughts he previously had. Though before he could tell her, his father was the one who stated it out loud instead.  
  


Merenkahre spoke ominously, “The End has come.”  
  


“Husband…What do you mean?” His mother stared at him, placing a gentle hand on his father’s.  
  


However, Merenkahre’s gaze was focused on Ahkmenrah. “The prophecy has resurfaced,” He answered.  
  


“There is more?” Ahkmenrah narrowed his gaze, approaching his father. A tint of betrayal surged in him.  
  


Merenkahre tapped the bottom of his staff, motioning for Ahkmenrah. However, it soon quietened down, causing all eyes to dart to the elder pharaoh. He thought his father would glare at his friends, ordering them to let them speak. But instead tightened his jaw and turned to Ahkmenrah.  
  


“I don't know of much of it further. Only you can know more about it.” Merenkahre said with conviction. “My son, you need to take the Tablet. Find the Ennead. They will help guide you to what you need to do.”  
  


“The Ennead, but they’re gone.” He furrowed his eyebrows. He had not heard of them in years, and he hardly had much love for them – especially after he discovered Khonsu choosing him as Guardian. “They’ve abandoned us since Khufu came to power. How can I find them?”  
  


Merenkahre didn’t respond, only flickering his eyes passed his vision. When his father’s attention changed, Ahkmenrah rotated around to discover who entered the exhibit.  
  


It was a man, dressed in fine garments that reminded him of Richard McPhee’s clothes. Though in this case, there was a lack of patterns and a bowtie. Instead, there were dark blue, buttoned in the centre. His clean-shaven face staring at their direction before it fell to the person in front of him.  
  


Rowen strode hurriedly through Jedediah, Octavius and Leslie and said icily, “Antonio.”  
  


Ahkmenrah’s mind clicked. So, this must be the former museum director and the man that had taken her back to London. He’d heard of him before, mostly Rowen speaking of her job and the museum. The same man which faced the Guardian of Cambridge with a hesitant expression.  
  


That confused him.  
  


Antonio took a step forward, holding a hand up. “It’s alright, Rowen. I know what’s happened. I’m not here to take the Tablet.”  
  


Come again?  
  


He must have heard the man wrong, or did he just clarify that he would not take the Tablet? Also, he seemed too comfortable seeing several exhibits alive.  
  


A flicker of anger simmered under his skin, much warmer as he felt his heart pump blood, as he glided towards them with the Tablet tucked under his arm.  
  


Meanwhile, Rowen answered the historian, “Prove it.”  
  


Just as he was about to get to them, he was stopped by a hand. He found Attila shake his head before nudging over to Sacagawea.  
  


The Native American woman explained, “He was the man that got us out of the crates.” She assured them. “Don’t worry, Rowen – if he helped us out, he would have kept us caged.”  
  


He eyed the rest of his friend, who all shared nods and hums of agreement. When he caught Sacagawea’s eye, she gave a look of truth and it was there he slightly relaxed his hostile composure.  
  


Though it didn’t mean it stopped Ahkmenrah catching the historian’s attention as he questioned, “Why do you think I will follow you?”  
  


Antonio: “The Lady of Knowledge has granted you, Rowen and your friends’ presence. I would not have revealed my intentions if this weren’t urgent.”  
  


His breath hitched, followed by his mother. Hardly has he ever heard of them ever walk the mortal world. ‘ _If she was here, this must be something larger than we believe it to be._ ’ Ahkmenrah noted.  
  


The Lady of Knowledge was much like The Ennead, hardly gracing the realm of mortals unless it was important. She was, however, the most known to the people, but like all gods: she had a façade which kept her secret. Not much for her own protection, but perhaps for humans instead.  
  


So to hear that this man told them that the Lady granted them a meeting, it was unheard of. It seemed too easy now that the reason they were awake and Antonio telling them about the Lady was linked.  
  


Shepseheret asked from behind him. “What does she seek from my son?” Words filled with concern sent him turning back to her.  
  


He began, “Mother-“  
  


“We cannot idle long. The Order is closing in to gain the Tablet. We need to head to a safer place.” Antonio warned them all, and both Rowen and Ahkmenrah sent each other looks of wariness.  
  


It would seem that this name won’t leave them soon enough.  
  


He didn’t need to speak to his love what they both agreed on, hearing her sigh in confirmation.  
  


Rowen agreed, “Alright. We will come with you.” Her voice was lined with much more threats that he heard the red-haired woman sharply inhale. “But you must swear you will not harm any of them.”  
  


The follower of the Lady of Knowledge bowed his head, placing a hand over his chest. “I swear under my oath, amica.”  
  


“Good.” She replied, and Antonio sighed in relief.  
  


After Rowen and Antonio went over to discuss what was about the museum’s protection and their plans to contain the exhibits, Ahkmenrah heard the return of murmurs and conversation between his friends. He wasn’t sure if he made the right decision, doubt beginning to crawl into his mind. When he looked over back to the man, something irked him which he could’ve sworn it reminded him of something.  
  


What intrigued him was the small silver chain which hung around his neck. Ahkmenrah could sense something there. A protective spell itself? The Tablet seemed to not mind it, humming as its own devices under his grasp as he watched Rowen walk over to him with more weight on her shoulders.  
  


But when she looked up to him, her face changed to a tired smile making him frown. He knew that face, and he feared that he had agreed to something they both not want.  
  


He started, “Rowen.”  
  


Her hand carefully went to grab his free one, reassuring his worries. “Hey, at least we are together. We've got each other's backs.”  
  


By Sacagawea, Teddy commented: “Indeed, Ahkmenrah. Do not worry. As long as we are together, we will protect the Tablet at all costs.”  
  


Ahkmenrah could feel his chest swell, shaking his head. He did not need them to risk themselves. “You need to stay here, protect the museum.” He spoke, but from all of his friends’ faces – it would seem they would not be swayed by his order.  
  


“No. If the Lady insists you all then you must go.” Merenkahre stated, glancing at the woman by his side. “I will guard this place if you will allow me, Joanna Bates.”  
  


Rowen nodded silently.  
  


“Mother…” Ahkmenrah began, but his voice trailed when he found her shaking her head.  
  


Shepseheret spoke, “It is not our destiny, my child. It is yours.”  
  


Those words caused him to falter his steps, his knees going weak.  
  


It was then that the sudden realisation hit him like a desert sandstorm. He was thrown back to memory when news of his brother’s death travelled to him.  
  


‘ _No…they must be lying._ ’ Ahkmenrah thought. ‘ _He…she…they can’t believe I would leave them. Not after so many years away._ ’  
  


A sense of guilt mixed with regret made things worse for him.  
  


“Mother, come with us.” His voice went hoarse, pleading to her. “You will be safe.”  
  


Her mother only shook her head. “My place is on your father’s side. When I first heard of what I was prepared to overcome, I couldn't imagine not ever seeing my sons ever again.” She then continued in their native tongue: “ ** _But remember, my Ahkmen...we must follow duty. And the mortal world's safety is on your shoulders, I’m afraid. I wish this was never yours, to begin with._** ”  
  


Ahkmenrah’s small voice breathlessly answered, “I never had a say in anything. I should be used to it. It’s not your fault.”  
  


“ ** _No. Not this. I regret I never spoke of where your father went. I had every moment to tell you the moment Osaze told me how aware you were of the world. You were always so attentive, so curious for your own good._** ” Shepseheret shut her eyes, her voice tightening. “ ** _And then our deaths happened, and I watched you every night waste yourself away – longing to go out and see the world._** ”  
  


Was this what his mother thought of every second since their death?  
  


“That wasn’t your choice. We had to hide it.” Ahkmenrah gritted his teeth, wanting to stop them from continuing forward with these words.  
  


And instead, it was Merenkahre who answered him: “No. It was mine.” He stared at his son and continued, “ ** _You could have spent the next four thousand years seeing the world change. Instead, we chose a path that locked you out from striving better. You have a choice now, my son._** ”  
  


“...Father.”  
  


He wanted to reach to them. To his father specifically. Because even after what his father had done to them – to him – Ahkmenrah began to understand why his father had to do it. Maybe he would never come to accept his parents’ secrets from him, but he would try his best to understand.  
  


His final words to him hit him like an arrow. “You are still my son and I always cared for you.”  
  


“You speak as if I will never see you again,” Ahkmenrah whispered.  
  


Merenkahre spoke, “We'll be with you always.”  
  


Ahkmenrah nodded, as he finally shook out the truth and spilt it with emotion. “I love you both.”  
  


With that, a shadow knocked the air out of his lungs. His mother hugged him tightly, tensing before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her.  
  


Shepseheret whispered in his ear, “My boy. My beautiful son.” She cupped his face and stared at him, continuing. “May the gods protect you.”  
  


Ahkmenrah muffled back his tears. He would not cry because he could not bear to admit their parting. It had been only several days since he was reunited with his family. Again, he had no choice but to leave them once more.  
  


Maybe he could stay, let Rowen take the Tablet; find Larry and make sure it was safe. The Tablet was his, to begin with, but it never meant he would choose willingly to protect it. However, his sense of duty and morality swayed him. If he can protect his family by choosing to accept his fate as well as his own, then it was the best course.  
  


As they stepped back, he noticed Shepseheret pan over to the small figure standing a few feet away. She then gestured for her to come to her, her arms falling to her sides. Shepseheret stood tall and proud, willing to face the Guardian of Cambridge.  
  


To his surprise, Shepseheret’s façade fell.  
  


His mother, the Queen of once Kemet: pleaded before Rowen Bates with grace and confidence. Because before she was a ruler, she was always a mother first. “Joanna Bates, keep him safe, will you?” Shepseheret asked, tears glistening the rim of her eyes.  
  


Rowen’s expression was filled with determination. The same face he had watched face them when they first met. “I promise you, your majesties. I will make sure he comes back. I swear it.”  
  


His father approached her, ushering her to him. Ahkmenrah in instinct wanted to rush over in defence, but he spotted his father’s look, signalling him that he would not dare to harm her. And in reluctance, he waited: cautiously eyeing Rowen as she faced his father.  
  


She asked, “What is it, your majesty?”  
  


His father stood before Rowen, placing something in her small palm. When Ahkmenrah glanced over towards them, he felt his chest tighten.  
  


There in her palm was his mother’s amulet. He had heard stories of it, how his father went all the way down to Nubia during his quests and discovered the beautiful jade. It was then crafted into a beautiful golden amulet for Shepseheret as a courting gift – a sign of their love.  
  


Merenkahre, in turn, gave Rowen the symbolised jewel. Ahkmenrah was too far to know what they were speaking about, but he could tell it seemed important by her attentive gaze and determined look as she clasped the amulet in her hand. His father in turn, only looked down at Rowen with a curt nod, offering a solidifying hand on her shoulder. A sign of respect.  
  


Ahkmenrah was relieved, that his father had settled some differences with the Guardian of Cambridge, despite this last notice. Though he knew that what his father promise was something he would keep.  
  


Rowen bowed her chin, answering politely back. “Thank you.”  
  


His parents then hovered away from their odd little group as Ahkmenrah felt Sacagawea’s hand place over his shoulder. He thanked her, appreciating the small gesture of kindness until he was sent to look at the extra company with them.  
  


It was only now he was able to notice the red-haired woman, surprised to find Leslie Carter amongst them. Why on earth was she here? And from the woman’s hesitation and spot far from them, something must have happened for her to arrive along with Rowen.  
  


“I guess I am staying here?” Leslie grumbled, folding her arms as Rowen went to her.  
  


He watched the two interact – one more hostile than the other. Even from this distance, it wasn’t a secret there was something between the two. “If you want to. But where we’re going will perhaps give you more answers than this.” She sighed, and added: “It’s your choice, Les.”  
  


The doctor made a gesture before huffing, “Seems like I don’t. But I’ll come anyway.”  
  


It was agreed, and to Ahkmenrah’s opposition, that Sacagawea, Teddy, Attila, Dexter, Jedediah and Octavius would accompany them with him, Antonio, Rowen and Leslie. Whilst they went with Antonio, he would be leaving his parents with the museum alongside Lancelot and perhaps Tilly (who was the only other known night guard they trusted).  
  


Whilst he tucked the Tablet in Rowen’s satchel, they hurried out to the back entrance of the museum, winding through corridors of exhibits that were just beginning to adjust to their lives. He and the rest of the exhibits knew from their slowed paces that they wanted to stop and help the confused exhibits, but their time was running short.  
  


As well as that, his mind was still reeling from his last conversation with his parents.  
  


His last.  
  


‘ _Stop thinking it will be the last time_.’ Ahkmenrah told himself. ‘ _You will come back, and you will see them again._ ’  
  


From eavesdropping his father’s words to Rowen, it almost felt like a final goodbye. Did his parents truly feel he will not come back at all? If so: what would stop him? They were just going with Antonio Paladino to the Lady of Knowledge, one of the smaller members of the gods he once learnt of. If a goddess was offering a hearing, perhaps it meant asylum for them.  
  


Somehow, Ahkmenrah felt that wrong as well.  
  


The last thing he could derive from his parents’ farewell was that he or they could die.  
  


Suddenly, he felt sick a dozen times over.  
  


“Are you alright?”  
  


He stared to his left, finding golden eyes look at him. Rowen’s own face seemed to fall into wonder, entranced by his expression.  
  


With a heavy sigh, he answered truthfully. “No.”  
  


Watching her features soften, she stopped them just as they arrived at the door and pulled him into her arms. He released the racking tension that has been inside him since he woke, hands lingering to her hair as he combed through with his fingers. Even alive, everything seemed different – like a whole dampening cloud had been lifted from his heart and mind. He could sense her warmth, her chest heaving in and out. Her heartbeat beating with his own.  
  


Long has it been since he felt this. To feel connected to the living for so many years.  
  


Sooner or later, they pulled back and he kissed her temple once more. Her fingers graced his face as he muttered to her. “But wherever you go: I know at least you are safe **_mer ek_**.”  
  


Rowen looked at him, a small smile on her lips. “Do you think I was right?” She asked him, “That we'll finally find the answers we've been searching for all this time?”  
  


He glanced over to where someone coughed – finding both Roman and Cowboy gesturing for them to hurry up. Ahkmenrah gave them a look before they rose their hands and began heading outside. Before they could move, Ahkmenrah cupped her face and wiped a small tear that fell over her cheek, kissing the tear away.  
  


“Perhaps,” Ahkmenrah recalled, before holding her hand and the two continued.  
  


Despite such a small thing, it was hard to look beyond the door in front of him. He could sense the rays of light escape inside, and the sounds of cars and people. Life. Society. It was all there before him and through those double doors.  
  


And yet, why was he afraid? Afraid to feel what he had not felt for centuries?  
  


He then remembered who he was beside, and who in turn was waiting in the big open world. He had left his parents behind, in the museum similar to the place he has been kept for many years. Now: he was given the chance to be free. To finally see the day.  
  


Ahkmenrah took a breath. He then followed through the doors and out of the building.  
  


The first thing he recognised was warmth. The warmth of the sun shining down on him as he relaxed his body. At this point, he hadn’t opened his eyes – taking every step at a time to introduce his senses. Because the past four thousand years, the light which he knew of involved lamps and fires and lights of Manhattan. The light of the moon was cold and eery.  
  


But the sun, it was foreign to him.  
  


So, as he fluttered his eyes open, he greeted the light as an old friend.  
  


Ahkmenrah shuddered a breath and took his surroundings. Everything was the same and yet so different. The trees were so green as the wind rustled their leaves. Vehicles such as cars and trucks were the same colours as the ones he saw in pictures. The buildings were not looming blocks of darkness, instead: they were ornate and ordered.  
  


And the sky.  
  


It was blue as he remembered it had been. The sun peeking out of the clouds as he gazed up before landing them back down to the ground and found himself staring at his hands.  
  


A hand caught his own, and he looked at its owner to find them smiling back. Had he never seen the Guardian of Cambridge’s eyes so golden.  
  


“...Breathe, _amicus meus_.” She reminded him, but then stopped and added: “Ahk?”  
  


He blinked several times, finding himself taking a huge breath before answering. “I am fine,” Ahkmenrah revealed, choking as he felt his throat tighten – tear threatening to pour out. “It's just… It’s difficult to comprehend that I have finally tasted this all after so many years.”  
  


He wanted to laugh and to cry.  
  


For the rest of the journey, Ahkmenrah could not grasp the reality he was in. Years he had believed he would never set his eyes in the sun again. And yet here he was, seeing the sun after over four thousand years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing the last bit of this chapter as I always wondered how the exhibits would react when they would see the sun since their real body's deaths. Especially for Ahk, who had to wake up every night and never saw the sun.
> 
> As for Merenkahre's gift to Rowena, it's not precisely an Egyptian tradition, but I wanted to convey a feeling of mutual agreement between her and Ahk's dad. Even before Cambridge, they didn't get along as much so this was a way to say thank you.


End file.
